


Built for Destruction

by NinjaDino721



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Rocket-Centric, Torture, lab experiments, loss of sentience
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaDino721/pseuds/NinjaDino721
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm only a man with a candle to guide me, I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me. A monster, a monster, I've turned into a monster, A monster, a monster, And it keeps getting stronger</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“For the last time, we are not planting a bomb at any time during this delivery!” Gamora shouted irritably towards the raccoon who only ignored her entirely, staring down at the mechanism in his hands and furrowing his brow with concentration.  
“And why not? The bloke almost got us killed last time we made a delivery.” Rocket quipped back, eyes darting up to meet hers before making a grab for one of his many tools that had been scattered across the table they all sat around.  
Gamora let out a sigh of defeat. They had been an official ‘team’ for months now and somehow, in the minds of the civilians, that meant intergalactic delivery company. Not that the guardians minded much, they were given the chance to explore the further reaches of the galaxy and often times, adventure ensued seeing as though the lives of criminals never rest. And of course money had been a key detail for their, as Quill called it, superhero work. But it did often times feel rather degrading.  
In fact, it was because of their somewhat demeaning job status that Gamora had first agreed to this particular delivery. Not only was the planet it was directed to fairly dangerous, but by the way their client had spoken, the transaction was quite illegal and risky in itself.  
Although she did understand the raccoon’s uneasiness. They had made contact with their client before in another rather risky transaction, an infinity stone as it turned out, which had not ended well. In fact, it had caught Gamora by surprise that the Collector would try and contact them at all seeing as though their last encounter had left his collection in shambles. But who was she to turn away from such an incredible offer.  
It wasn’t four billion units of course, but the amount of money that a man who had his life’s work reduced to rubble only months ago was willing to offer, but the Collector’s payment was still more than the Guardians could have hoped for at this point.  
Despite being official employees of Nova by an extent, the Guardians had yet to be compensated for much more than the rebuilding of the Milano, and what little money they did earn of their mundane deliveries was beginning to run low.  
“I do not see why you are so adamant about keeping us from completing this mission.” She stated irritably. Rocket snorted slightly at the mention of the word ‘mission,’ knowing full well that this was simply another errand Nova had sent them on.  
“Because it’s so obviously a trap.” He stated plainly, not even bothering to meet her eyes this time as he twisted another screw into place on the piece of machinery that he was ‘repairing,’ although Gamora saw no need for any modifications to the weapon, let alone any of the other guns and bombs he insisted on tearing apart at his bench.  
“Why would you assume that?” Drax spoke up, tilting his head towards the furred creature inquisitively.  
Rocket shrugged, yanking at a wire as though it were his main interest at the moment. “Call it animal intuition.” He said. Despite the fact that Rocket would gladly tear apart anyone who dared address him as an animal, he had begun to use his enhanced differences to his advantage. “I’m telling you, something just doesn’t feel right about this ‘mission.’”  
Gamora pursed her lips and looked to Peter for support. “What do you think?” She asked, crossing her arms across her chest as their leader’s eyes widened with the sudden realization that he had just been put on the spot.  
“Uh, I hate to say this, but I actually agree with Rocket here.” He managed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, eyes darting from the rather irritated ex-assassin.  
“What?”  
“Come on Gamora, don’t tell me this doesn’t seem just a little bit fishy. I mean the last time we saw this Collector guy, we kind of indirectly blew up his entire hide-out. Do you really think he wants us to make another delivery? I mean we don’t even know what’s in this box thing. What if it’s another infinity stone or whatever?” He argued, glancing towards Rocket as though searching for support. Unfortunately the raccoon had yet to look up from his work as he yanked at another chord.  
“I too sense the presence of sea life with our client.” Drax managed, smiling triumphantly at his use of the metaphor, oblivious to the confused looks of his team members. “However, I do not think it should keep us from making this delivery, he is offering a large sum of money that we are in need of.”  
Gamora stood taller, tilting her head towards Quill as Drax remained on her side. He frowned as though offended before standing up himself. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t go, we need the money. But I am saying that we shouldn’t let our guards down.”  
Their arguing was interrupted by a faint beeping at the console of the ship, making the presence of their target planet aware to the Guardians. Both Quill and Gamora made their way to the front of the cockpit, taking their positions in their seats as Peter took hold of the controls.  
…  
“This is a bad idea.” Rocket sang quietly as he took his position next to Groot. His fingers had yet to leave the trigger of the plasma ray in his hand and the safety of the large blaster mounted upon his back had already been switched off.  
Gamora rolled her eyes at the raccoon’s childish antics, refusing to argue with her furred companion any more than she had already allowed. “We’re almost there, we’ll get in, make the transaction, and leave.” She stated plainly, not even looking down to make eye contact with the rather irritating creature at her feet.  
Rocket scoffed. “Alright but if all this goes to hell, which it will by the way, I’m not above saying that ‘I told you so.’” He taunted, grasping onto Groot’s leg and scrambling up onto his friend’s shoulder as he was finding himself unable to keep up with the other’s long strides.  
“Well if you feel so uncomfortable with this mission, then you may as well stay outside and keep watch.” Peter called back from the front of the group, shoving his hands in his pockets for security as a crowd of small children made their way between the guardians, their hands open in search of a generous passer.  
Gamora pursed her lips before fishing out a few units and slipping it into one of the pink skinned girl’s hands, receiving a bright smile in return. She was pulled quickly out of her musings when Rocket let out a degrading chuckle. Her eyes shot up quickly to the raccoon who was now lounging on Groot’s shoulders. She was beginning to think that his position upon his friend’s appendage was becoming less and less about being stepped on in a crowd and simply about becoming taller than everyone else.  
“We need the money.” He said in a high pitched tone, waving his hands dramatically. “Please, this is all an adrenaline trip for you jerks.” He continued, gesturing back to the little girl behind them who was now reaching her small hand into the back of someone’s pocket, taking the tattered wallet into her own possession before taking off back down the crowded street.  
The woman frowned. “I thought you’d be more excited about a mission involving danger and rewards. Is that not what your bounty hunter business thrived off of?” She managed, twisting herself as another mob of people made their way in the opposite direction.  
“So you admit that there is danger involved?” The raccoon countered.  
Gamora could only purse her lips at the irritating creature beside her, picking up her pace a bit to walk beside Drax. The man may be still unable to understand the meaning of metaphors, but he could certainly hold a conversation much more enlighting than that which she was now sharing with Rocket.  
The rest of the trip to the Collector’s establishment was in a brisk silence until they came upon the large white building. It was still blackened with ash in some places from the previous explosion involving the infinity stone and it was obvious that the thing was still under construction, but compared to the rest of Knowhere and its landscape, it was still something to marvel at. Or in Rocket’s case, cringe.  
He shuddered as his eyes scanned over the tall structure. He was considering taking up on Quill’s offer of staying outside during their transaction. He had managed to endure the place filled to the brim filled with what he could only describe as strange life forms once and he didn’t think he would be able to endure seeing those glass cages again without some form of intoxication.  
“Rocket, you coming in?” Quill called, having reached the entrance, his hand already positioned around the door’s handle.  
The raccoon looked up at the structure once more warily before nodding hesitantly and leaping down off of Groot’s shoulders to walk on his own. “Yeah, but only so I can gloat when this ends up being a trap.” He grumbled, stiffening when the doors flung themselves open, a woman in a small white dress grinning unnervingly at the five. She looked almost identical to the one who had disintegrated in a burst of purple and black and Rocket was beginning to wonder if the Collector had a surplus of clones doing his bidding… it wouldn’t have surprised him.  
“Starlord.” She said in a high cheery voice. Rocket chuckled to himself as Quill’s posture straightened immensely, smiling in triumph at his superhero name. “The Collector will see you now.”  
The girl took off into the building, the clicking of her shoes against the tiled floors being the only sound for a while before the Guardians followed suit. The interior looked almost restored despite the lack of either escaped or deceased prisoners, leaving many of the glass display cases empty and dimly lit as though awaiting a new captive.  
A shudder ran up Rocket’s spine as one of the lights in an open case flickered, tightening his grip on his gun out of instinct. “I am Groot?” The large tree man beside him called down curiously.  
The raccoon shrugged. “This place just gives me the creeps you know? I’m telling ya Groot, something doesn’t smell right here.” He said, cringing in disgust as a large bug creature of some sort pressed itself against the glass of its containment unit.  
“Ah, my dear friends.” A low drawn out voice called from the opposite side of the room. The Guardians turned around quickly to face the white haired man as he stepped slowly toward them, his furred cape dragging behind him. “I must say that I am delighted to see you all again after all that had happened.” He continued, his slow and almost methodic voice making Rocket shiver.  
“Yeah, you seen pretty ecstatic.” He murmured, scowling when Gamora nudged him with her foot.  
“I see you’ve brought your pet with you again.” The Collector said, his pale lips curling up into the slightest smile. Rocket growled under his breath but left his pistol at his side.  
He saw Drax frown out of the corner of his eyes as the man stepped forward defensively. “I see no use in this argument, can we make the transaction now?” He said gruffly, gesturing towards Quill who was holding the small box in his palms.  
The man frowned but held his and out for the container anyway. “Of course. I’m assuming you would like to be paid in units?” He said in his monotone voice which Rocket couldn’t decide wanted to make him want to fall asleep or shudder again.  
Peter nodded curtly, handing over the box. “I’m assuming you’re not about to tell us exactly what it is in that container are you?” He inquired curiously, gesturing to the thing now sitting in the man’s pale palms.  
Another ‘smile’ (if you could eve call it that) graced the Collector’s lips as he placed the item of interest on a metallic table and pulled open a drawer filled to the brim with units that Rocket was almost considering figuring out a plan to steal them all while they were here. If the Guardians wanted a thrill ride, hey may as well get what they could grab.  
“Unfortunately not, I am hoping to avoid what events transpired the last time we met.” He chuckled, pulling out a transparent bow filled to capacity with their money. “This is the payment we agreed upon, you may count it out if you would like, but I can assure you that it is all there. Now if you would excuse me.”  
And with that, the Collector turned slowly from the group, his new possession in hand as he made his way to private quarters, leaving the five in an uncomfortably stifling silence, the only sound being the few caged creatures banging themselves against the walls of their containers.  
Quill turned around, his brows furrowed in slight confusion, practically mirroring the others as they all stood in a circle with varying looks of confusion. “So… is that it?” He asked, holding up the box of units in his hands towards the group.  
“Exactly how many explosions were you two expecting?” Gamora asked, turning on a heel and pushing the doors of the building open again, the others following quickly in step behind her.  
“I wasn’t expecting explosions per se.” Quill continued, tilting the box in his hand as though expecting a clue to their confusion inside among the units. “Just… I don’t know, more?”  
Gamora chuckled to herself, obviously in the gloating mood. But Rocket wasn’t paying attention to her when his ears began picking up on something else, he paused in his walking for a moment, allowing the others to gain a larger lead ahead of him.  
“Rocket?” Quill called back, realizing that the raccoon was no longer with them.  
“Sh!” he managed, holding a hand out to further his point as his ears twitched wildly, the sound of guns being loaded and heavy footfalls in the many sketchy alleyways of the severed head that was Knowhere. It wouldn’t seem all that strange were the footsteps not coming closer at rapid pace from all angles surrounding their ship that was growing closer as the Guardians continued to walk.  
His eyes snapped open wide as the realization hit him, falling forward onto all fours and practically tackling Gamora down just as one of their ambushers fired his weapon, a coil of sparking wires webbing out from the device like a spider and wrapping itself around his small body.  
Gamora pushed herself up quickly to glare angrily at Rocket who had knocked her over quite spontaneously, ready to skin herself a raccoon carcass when she realized that someone had already taken the liberty of wrenching him off of her thin frame.  
She turned around to face her furred partner only to find that it was not one of the Guardians to have lifted him from her back. Her eyes widened upon seeing Rocket gritting him teeth as electrical convulsions ran throughout his cybernetic skeleton.  
She had barely begun to process the events unfolding when she heard another blast from her right. The green skinned woman leapt and tumbled to the side, barely missing another electrical surge as the device clattered to the ground beside her, wires ablaze with electricity as they jumped with life on the cobblestone in search of a host.  
She wasn’t one for using guns, finding that she fought better at hand to hand combat, but seeing as though their attackers weren’t about to give her enough time to gain that distance, she was instead forced to grab one of Peter’s pistols from his belt and fire into the darkness of the alleyway in front of her, smiling when she heard an audible grunt and the clatter of a gun hitting the ground.  
“Quill.” She called, tossing the gun back to him and racing back to Rocket’s side, pulling out her knife and snapping the wires. His eyes were wide with panic as he continued to twitch under the effects of the device, blue sparks leaping from the protruding cybernetics in his back and chest, burning holes into his trademark jumpsuit. Gamora practically tore her knife from its place at her calf and cut the wires from her friend’s body, cringing when an electric pulse leapt from the device and up her arm.  
Furrowing her brow a the sudden shakiness of her left hand, she snapped the rest of the chords before flinging the thing aside, watching it flicker out of power as it was smashed to pieces against the wall.  
Rocket had yet to uncurl from his fetal position but he was conscious and, to Gamora’s relief, breathing steadily. Groot, of course, was the first one at his friend’s side, reaching out a wooden hand to offer help but was swatted at weakly by the shaky raccoon.  
“Rocket, are you-“ Gamora started, but was cut off as her furred companion began to push himself into a sitting position, his arm spasaming slightly with the shakiness in his muscles.  
“’m fine.” He managed through clenched teeth. Although the shakiness of his legs as he tried to push himself onto his feet proved otherwise. He eventually settled on grasping Groot’s wooden leg for support, body twitching with a sudden spasm very few seconds.  
“What the hell was that?” Peter shouted, shooting another blast of plasma blindly into the alleyway as the last of their attackers decided to retreat.  
“Was it not the fish of which you were sensing?” Drax asked, tearing a dagger from the gut of his own victim before turning back to face his team.  
“It was an ambush.” She stated plainly, lifting her left arm which had all but gone limp. Since its brief encounter with the electric device. In fact, it was a wonder Rocket was even moving at this point seeing as though he had been subjected to the torturous device for far longer and in larger quantity. It made her wonder exactly how much of the raccoon’s skeleton was actually cybernetic.  
“What, from the Collector? I mean I knew he was angry at us but…” Quill trailed off upon seeing Rocket’s stumbling state.  
“No, they were followers of Ronan, I recognize the weaponry.” She said, almost in shock as realization dawned upon her. “They were after me, angered at my disloyalty to their leader. That device was created to disable my mechanical systems.” Rocket’s eyes widened upon the explanation.  
“It’s not permanent right?” He asked. If Gamora hadn’t known better, she would have thought him to be almost panicked.  
She shook her head, shaking her arm and flexing he fingers weakly as though to further her point. It should wear off by the morning. In the meantime, however, I would suggest that you keep away from your devices.”  
The Raccoon frowned. “Yeah I guess that’s doable.” He managed, although his twitching had yet to stop and the shakiness of his legs had all but gotten worse. However, if the raccoon was good at one thing, it was keeping his ‘weaknesses’ under wraps. “Now can we please get off this blasted planet? I swear I’m gonna have an aneurism if I gotta stay here another second.” He continued, before patting Groot’s leg and making his way up the Milano’s ramp himself.  
“Oh and Gamora.” The woman looked up towards her smaller colleague. “I told ya so.”  
…  
Rocket’s head had been pounding since the ambush and had shown no signs of stopping, even in the calming darkness of his bunker. Groot had left him after hours of trying to ‘help,’ or in Groot’s case prodding at his side and whispering ‘I am Groot’ over and over.  
Gamora had mentioned that the device had sent him out of commission for who knows how long. Luckily the spasms of his limbs had ceased, however he was beginning to wonder exactly how the electric pulses had affected him.  
Or at least he was until the pounding in his head turned into a sharp pain and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

“Gah!” Rocket jolted his arm away instinctively as a wire he had been holding onto sparked to life. He scowled angrily as his elbow rammed into the large slab of metal he was pinning himself against and the flashlight that had been balancing precariously underneath his arm clattered against the machinery of the Milano’s engine and onto the sandy ground outside, leaving the raccoon in complete darkness.  
“Crap.” He growled disgruntledly, squinting his eyes as though it would somehow actually help him in seeing the damned mess of wires and dials in front of him as he struggled to keep hold of the two chords in his sweating palms. He cringed slightly when he felt a tight cramping in his right leg.  
“Just my luck.” He grumbled, rubbing his elbow and blinking blankly into the darkness. And to his discouragement, it wasn’t all that surprising that he had forgotten to cut off the power before crawling through the interior of the Milano, something that was usually a first priority. Ever since the ambush attack back on Knowhere, something about Rocket had seemed off.  
He had found himself becoming more unfocused, in fact, Groot had almost had a panic attack only a few days before after the raccoon had apparently blanked out for at least twenty minutes before he had snapped out of his trance, not that he had recalled any of it. Not only that, but his limbs had begun to feel less coordinated with his mind as well, as though his thoughts and actions were somehow out of sync.  
Of course, being the proud Guardian of the Galaxy that he was, he had yet to bring his predicament to anyone’s attention. He knew that they were simply after effects from the shock he had received, but according to Gamora, his seizing limbs and fuzzy mindset should have faded days ago, then again he had been under the influence of the device for an uncomfortable amount of time.  
So, flexing his fingers and focusing on the synchronized motion of his small hands, Rocket decided that there was nothing to worry about and instead began working on deciding a way to finish fixing the engine without his flashlight.  
Since the engines of Quill’s ship weren’t exactly meant to be tampered with, there was little room for Rocket to wriggle about and experiment easily let alone with much comfort, which is why the raccoon’s predicament had only been growing worse seeing as though he was currently struggling greatly to hold his position between two slabs of metal with both legs planted firmly on one and his back pressed uncomfortably against the other.  
He was considering simply releasing the two wires in his hands and dropping down to retrieve his light source, potentially losing the things in the mess of cables when the space in front of him was suddenly alight again. Although dimly so, Rocket was able to quickly yank the two cables from their place in the vast web of things, wrapping them around the bolts behind himself tightly.  
Only after tugging on the strings of copper to ensure their security, did Rocket actually look down to find his inexplicable source of light.  
“Thought you could use a hand out here.” Peter called up, waving the flashlight tauntingly in his hand.  
Rocket rolled his eyes. He had been crawling in the interior of the ship for over an hour and although he would have loved to argue with the Starlord, he was exhausted. Taking a moment to adjust himself, the raccoon released the tension that had been holding him in place between his shaky knees and aching back, dropping himself expertly between multiple pieces of machinery and onto the ground.  
He let out a slight grunt upon hitting the ground but he was just glad that the cramping in his leg was finally given the chance to die down as he brushed himself off, wiping the grease stains further into his orange jumpsuit.  
“Yeah yeah, your junk-pile is fixed Stardork.” He quipped, reaching up for the thin metallic flap of the wing of the Milano and slamming it shut.  
Quill said nothing in response as he began to follow Rocket back up the ramp and into the ship, switching off the flashlight and holding it out to the raccoon who grabbed it in his own small paws and shoved it into its place in his tool belt.  
To say that Rocket was in a bad mood was an understatement, and the entire team seemed to notice as their smallest member trudged into the cockpit, yanking the tool belt from his waist and flinging it into the corner. Although none of the guardians appreciated Rocket’s ways of organization, it had become apparent to the team that the perimeter of just about every room upon the Milano was now designated to the raccoon’s temporary disposal needs.  
“Did you fix it?” Gamora asked, standing up from her spot at the rounded table.  
The Guardians had become rather stranded mere hours ago as one of their engines had given out on them and they were lucky enough to find a habitable planet within enough time to keep from spiraling out of control entirely. And being the only one who knew how to repair the Milano as well as fit into the engine system, it was he who was begrudgingly forced to worm his way through the ship’s right wing.  
Without even glancing up towards the woman whilst taking his own seat at the table, Rocket nodded halfheartedly before dropping his head rather exhaustedly onto the cool surface. “I am Groot?” The booming voice called from the opposite side of the room where the large Flora Colossus had planted himself.  
Rocket opened his eyes to glance at his friend, raising an eyebrow weakly at the question. “’m fine, just a headache.” He grumbled before allowing his eyes to fall shut again, relishing in the coolness of the ship’s interior.  
He was startled out of his calming relaxation when a hand came down heavily on his shoulder, startling the creature so much that he had to latch his hands onto the edge of the table to keep from tumbling out of his seat. “You do seem rater irritable.” Drax stated curtly, tilting his head at his comrade.  
Rocket frowned and swatted at the large man’s hand grumpily. “Well you try crawlin around in a freaking engine in that blasted heat and tell me that you don’t feel just a little bit ‘irritable’ too.” He retorted begrudgingly.  
He did have a headache, that part he hadn’t lied about. What Rocket had failed to tell the others was that the pounding ache of his brain beating against the walls of his skull had been continuous since the attack on Knowhere. And, despite the throbbing pain, the reclusive raccoon wasn’t about to let it worry the others either.  
He had been through far worse in the past, most injuries had been caused indirectly by himself during the oh so popular bar fights that he had a knack for getting into, or a particularly stubborn bounty. And although he made it his sole purpose in life among the Guardians to keep his troubling origins under wraps, his measly headache was nothing compared to what he was once forced to go through.  
A slight shudder ran up his spine at the thought, or maybe it was the uncomfortable worried looks everyone was giving him. Frowning at the sudden attention, Rocket lifted his head from the table and dropped himself off of his seat onto the floor.  
Gamora was the first to shake off her uneasiness, turning back to the controls and gesturing towards the tool belt that the irritable raccoon had practically flung to the floor. “Is the ship capable of flying again?” She asked pointedly, obviously itching to take back to the skies and away from the unnervingly empty planet.  
She received no more than an affirmative grunt from Rocket as he moved towards the corner of the room, selecting a large blaster from the array of scattered weaponry in the cabin and making his way back to the table. The green skinned woman raised an inquisitive eyebrow before taking her seat at the controls, releasing a breath of relief when the engines sputtered to life.  
Watching as Rocket clambered back onto his chair, flinging the perfectly functional gun onto the metallic table, Peter finally decided to ask the question on everyone’s mind. “Hey Rocket.” He began, spinning the small chair beside the raccoon so that he sat with the back between his legs, his arms resting casually at the top. Rocket raised a brow slightly, his gaze flickering to the red clad man next to him.  
Taking this as an invitation to keep going, Peter reached a hand forward to touch the nozzle of the gun curiously. “Why do you keep taking these things apart?”  
Rocket didn’t answer for a moment, using his sharp nails to pry a panel off the side of the weapon. “I’m not takin it apart, Quill.” He murmured, brushing the half-Terran’s hand away from his project. “I’m fixin’ it.”  
Peter frowned. He hadn’t been expecting much of an answer, in fact, he couldn’t really remember the last time his smallest companion had given him a straight answer.  
Although the Guardians didn’t need a one to know why Rocket did what he did. His machines were a distraction. It kept him busy, kept his hands moving. They had all witnessed how fidgety the creature could be when he wasn’t holding a trigger. The way his hands clenched and unclenched, picking at the fabric of his suits or the seats of the chairs. Quill had even found his friend rummaging through the air vents of the ship, claiming that the cooling mechanisms had failed.  
The question that they all really wanted answered was why Rocket found the need to ‘fix’ things in the first place. What was it that had possessed him to busy himself with these mechanisms?  
So, deciding that he could risk pushing his luck a bit more before the raccoon snapped, Quill leaned forward, listening to the squeak of the chair under the pressure. “What was wrong with it?” He asked, picking up a screw that had been placed aside and inspecting it as though it truly intrigued him and pretending not to notice when the raccoon twitched nervously in his seat.  
Rocket’s white furred brows drew low in irritation, his eyes never raising to meet Peter’s. “Calibration issue.” He stated plainly, tearing at a blue chord until it snapped from its place in the machine. “The trigger was loose.”  
Peter frowned, placing the screw back down, watching as Rocket’s small hand snapped from its work to the small tool and pulling is closer, adjusting its position slightly before going back to tearing apart his latest victim. He wasn’t all too familiar with how the interworkings of Rocket’s custom-made weaponry worked, but he was fairly certain that the area of which the raccoon was working with at the moment would do little to fix a loose trigger.  
“Why then are you removing the wiring?” Drax questioned, voicing Peter’s thoughts exactly. Both Guardian leaned back warily when the raccoon’s ears flew back, a clear sign that they were treading on thin ice now.  
Rocket clenched his teeth, his hands seizing slightly at the sudden attention he was receiving. He didn’t understand it either. He had always been able to build and rebuild his weapons in peace. Despite the few curious glances from the others, the Guardians had always allowed him to work without much question. So the questioning glances Quill and Drax were giving him now made him more than uncomfortable and reducing his ability to focus greatly as he suddenly realized that he no longer understood which part of the gun he had even been working on nor how to put it back together.  
“Why are you guys so curious all of a sudden?” He asked, unconsciously sinking lower in his seat and considering simply taking his latest project back to his and Groot’s shared bunk to finish in quiet and hopefully regain his mental track. At least that was what he told himself as his vision began to blur slightly. He just needed this pressure off.  
He saw Quill shrug out of the corner of his eye. “Just wondering I guess.” He said, picking up another piece of equipment and turning it over in his palms. Rocket flinched slightly. He knew that Peter wasn’t about to do much damage to the dismantled dial, but it was no less unnerving knowing that the piece was no longer on the table where it should be. And being in his current state of discomfort and slight panic, it only frustrated him more that Quill was messing with his project.  
Deciding that he had torn enough wires and screws from their place in the blaster, Rocket began replacing the scattered pieces, hoping that the others would take his haste as a clue to leave him alone. Unfortunately, the raging headache still had yet to fade and the blurred vision had only become worse as he continued to work until Rocket soon found that, to his frustration, rebuilding a custom-made rocket launcher was much harder than tearing it apart.  
He bit his lip with restlessness as he struggled to attach the dials and screws into their rightful positions. What was happening? This was usually a task that came so naturally to him he could have done it with his eyes closed.  
Gritting his fang-like teeth together with determination, Rocket pushed away the remaining mess inside the weapon, focusing intently on the small piece of metal in his hands that had suddenly begun to shake. The raccoon’s eyes widened with anger when a sudden involuntary twitch in his left paw caused him to loosen his grip on the dial, watching as it slipped through the massive web of wiring and clattering to a stop at the other end.  
His breathing had become slightly panicked in his frustration and Rocket found that the shaking of his hands had suddenly become worse as they jolted and twitched. Pursing his lips, Rocket let out a low growl before gaining enough control of one hand to plunge it into the mess of wires and pulling.  
Peter furrowed is brow as Rocket took a stifled breath, biting his bottom lip so hard that he was sure the raccoon was most likely tasting a good amount of blood at the moment. “Hey, Rocket, everything okay?” He asked reluctantly, craning his neck ever so slightly and gaining a new angle on his smallest team mate.  
Rocket didn’t answer, simply jolting himself away from Peter so that his back was now facing the man.  
He watched intently as the raccoon continued to wrench wires from the gun frantically, sparks flying from the snapped pieces of copper. “I think it may be best not to work while you are in your current state.” Drax stated, looking down at Rocket with a worried look on his usually stoic face. He had reached out a large hand to pull the gun from Rocket’s paws.  
“I’m fine!” Rocket snapped, cringing when one of the wires emitted the smallest of sparks, causing the raccoon to leap back in his seat. Peter could see the anger boiling in his smallest partner, his twitching hands now holding the weapon in a death grip as he stared angrily at the now almost irreparable gun on the table as though his enraged gaze would somehow put all of the snapped wires back in place.  
“Rocket.” Drax said sternly, pulling at the jumble of wires and metal in attempt of wrenching it from his friend.  
Peter had expected for Rocket to shout back again in anger, to fight to keep the weapon in his possession. What he hadn’t expected, however violent the raccoon could be, was for his to lash out, claws drawn, before engraving three long marks of red along the large man’s arm.  
The scratches weren’t deep and Drax looked far more confused and startled than anything else as he stared in surprise at the seething creature in front of him, but that did little to calm Peter. He had stood up from his position at the table, the chair he had been in clattering loudly to the floor as the Terran leapt into action.  
“Rocket what the hell was that!” He practically shouted. Gamora had turned around from her position at the controls, eyeing Peter warily while Groot stumbled closer himself. The raccoon in particular had taken no notice of the chaos he had caused, simply staring angrily at the mess of parts in front of him and trying with trembling paws to cram the wires back into place.  
“Hey.” He called, grabbing Rocket’s shoulder and wrenching his small body forcefully away from the gun. He winced with slight guilt when Rocket let out a surprised yelp as he tumbled from the seat and onto the floor.  
Peter took a step back, knowing an enraged Rocket was nothing but bad news. But to his surprise, the raccoon had yet to move, simply sitting on his hands and knees breathing heavily and blinking rapidly, his face suddenly looking more exhausted than he had ever seen anyone.  
“Rocket?” He asked, his anger suddenly vanished as he crouched down, to get a closer look at his companion.  
The Guardian in question looked up upon hearing his name, eyebrows drawing low in confusion before pushing himself to his feet. “Ugh, what happened?” He asked, rubbing his head and looking up from his position on the floor towards Drax.  
Brown eyes snapped open wide upon seeing the small trickle of blood seeping from one of the shallow cuts on the man’s forearm. “It is nothing more than a scrape.” Drax said, trying to hide his injury from Rocket’s line of sight after seeing the raccoon’s shocked expression.  
“Rocket, what was that about?” Peter asked, hoping to actually get a straight answer from his this time.  
Of course, this was Rocket he was speaking to, and there was no such concept with the irritable raccoon. “Nothin, I need some air.” He responded quickly, his eyes darting once more to Drax’s injury before practically taking off down through the Milano’s corridors and towards his bunker.  
The room had fallen into an uncomfortable silence almost instantly as they all listened for the sound of the automatic door slamming shut behind the smallest Guardian. And for a god minute or so, each of the remaining occupants of the cockpit considered going after the creature.  
“I think it is best to leave him to himself.” Gamora finally voiced, just as Groot had begun to make his way to his shared room, causing the tree being to frown and turn back towards the woman. “I believed he had overworked himself as of late with repairing the ship and his weapons, a little rest should do him some good.”  
“Yeah.” Peter agreed halfheartedly. Although despite Rocket’s rather destructive nature, it was so unlike him to lash out at one of his own without warning, and he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly had caused his sudden act of rage and frustration.  
…  
Stumbling into his room, Rocket was beginning to panic now more than ever. He hadn’t recalled ever attacking the giant of a man, let alone why. In fact, racking his brain, the only thing he could remember was tearing furiously at his gun in search of that damned dial before waking up on the floor, as though he had lost consciousness completely between the two instances.  
He shook his head as his ears began to twitch uncontrollably as an earsplitting ringing filled the room. Although he couldn’t actually tell if it was the ship itself or his own pounding head playing another trick on him.  
His vision had all but gotten worse since feeling his way back to his room and now it seemed as though the room was spinning so fast that the feeling of nausea began to bubble up in the pit of his stomach.  
Closing his eyes tightly, Rocket decided that retiring to bed early may not have been such a bad idea. Although, he couldn’t recall if he had even made it to the bed at all before blacking out again.


	3. Chapter 3

Groot frowned sternly as he walked through the Milano’s corridor. He had agreed to allow Rocket his time to himself after that unexpected outburst, but it did not mean that he wasn’t still worried for his friend.  
It wasn’t as though Rocket had never lashed out at his team members before, in fact, it was almost routine for the easily angered raccoon to express himself. But something about this situation just sat with the giant being wrong. The way Rocket had reacted after scratching Drax, wide eyed and more confused than any of the other Guardians, as though he hadn’t even noticed what he had done.  
In fact, the more he thought about it, the more Groot began to realize that something was most certainly wrong with his friend. He had noticed it lately. Staring blankly into space for an unhealthy amount of time, the constant twitching and spasaming of his muscles. Groot had always pretended not to notice, having been created by people who had thought more of the experiment and less of the repercussions, Rocket had often dealt with seizing pains in his implants, short almost electrical pulses of phantom pains running through his system.  
That’s what Groot had suspected was happening, and however unsettling it was for his friend to be in constant pain, it was still a natural occurrence for the Flora Colossus. This however, was not. Sure the raccoon was easily angered, sometimes even unbearably so, and it was not above him to look for a fight when he wasn’t in the best of moods, but his sudden burst of anger earlier that day had seemed almost surreal, even by Rocket’s standards.  
So when he came upon his and Rocket’s shared bunker to find the room had become a disaster area, he was more than a little taken aback. Groot felt a jolt of panic inside of him after prying the door open, expecting to have seen his furry companion either asleep or taking his time alone to his advantage in creating another device. What he found was something he would have never expected.  
The room was a mess, thin scratch marks strewn across the walls, tattered rags of what Groot could only conclude was that Raccoon’s bed sheet littering the floor while Rocket himself stumbled weakly into a corner.  
Groot reacted instantly, rushing forward to meet his friend as Rocket leaned himself against a wall, his hands pressing themselves against the cool metal surface and his head hanging limply between his shoulders as he breathed heavily.  
It had seemed as though the blanket hadn’t been the only material the raccoon had practically destroyed in his rampage either. His trademark orange jumpsuit was in tatters, some torn areas across his chest even lined with small bits of crimson blood that soaked his fur.  
“I am Groot.” The large being called warily, lowering himself closer to his friend’s eye level but making sure not to touch him lest he react as he had with Drax. Rocket seemed to take no notice of the large tree creature at his side though as he continued to breathe heavily, his ears twisting and turning furiously almost like the antennas on a radio.  
Adjusting himself in a seated position so that Rocket was now isolated in his corner by both the Flora Colossus and the bed, Groot tried to get raccoon’s attention again. “I am Groot?” He asked calmly, this time reaching out with a tendril to poke his friend on the shoulder, effectively snapping Rocket out of whatever daze he had been caught in.  
He whirled around to face his attacker, eyes cold and dark and almost as though he were ready to pounce at the large being sitting in front of him. Groot flinched instinctively when Rocket raised his hand, claws drawn and ready to swipe at the nearest object when he stumbled backwards, practically tripping over himself and falling once again against the wall, this time so that he was facing Groot as he slid unceremoniously into a sitting position.  
Groot frowned in confusion but didn’t speak, simply watching as Rocket continued to twitch until the raccoon let out a low groan, putting his hands to his head and pulling his knees to his chest.  
After what felt like an eternity, Rocket finally looked up, his face looking incredibly weary and his eyes worn with exhaustion. Groot noticed that the dazed look he had caught the raccoon wearing lately had finally disappeared as his brown eyes refocused.  
“Groot?” He asked. And if Groot didn’t know any better, he would have said that Rocket almost sounded frightened. Groot smiled calmly towards the creature, adjusting his position again so that Rocket could escape his makeshift enclosure. “What happened here?” He continued, visibly relaxing upon seeing his opening, although he didn’t dare move, his limbs were still spasaming slightly as he sat exhaustedly against the wall.  
A furred brow raised in confusion as he eyed the room, looking almost dumbfounded at the marks on the walls and floor and the torn fabric of what used to be his bed sheets littered about the floor. Even parts of his mattress were torn open.  
He raised a hand to his chest as though to somehow calm his fast beating heart that felt as though it were about to burst out of him entirely, only to prove his worst fears even further. His arms dropped limply to his sides, picking at a tattered fragment of his clothing almost in shock as he observed the red stains on the orange fabric.  
Clenching his teeth together, Rocket looked back up to meet Groot’s worried gaze, clawing at the wall furiously to get himself back on two feet. His other arm grasped limply at a piece of his jumpsuit, pulling it back to his shoulder and hiding the mangled implants that littered his chest with shards of metal and scar tissue. “What’s happening?” He asked, his eyes widening in panic as he stumbled forward as though to assess the full amount of damage that he had caused.  
“Hey Rocket, I just wanted to- what the hell!” Both occupants of the room whirled around to face Peter who was standing slack-jawed at the entrance. The Terran’s eyes traced the claw marks that the raccoon had engraved into his ship and the nearly irreplaceable mattress and bed sheet with a look of disorientation before finally settling upon Rocket himself as he hugged his furred arms around his chest tightly. “What happened in here?” He managed, drawing himself further into the room.  
Rocket didn’t know how to answer. Hell, he had barely come to terms with the events himself and was still trying to figure out exactly what was happening amidst his recent and irritatingly frequent blackouts. The last thing he had remembered was a raging headache before waking up almost raking his claws across the bark of Groot’s arm. And he was glad that he had too, the last thing he needed was another incident like the one with Drax’s bleeding arm. But it did nothing to explain his recent destructive activity  
So, seeing as though the raccoon had no idea of what to do, he did the only thing he could think of. He pushed back. “Nothing.” He growled through clenched teeth. He didn’t dare loosed the pressure in his jaw despite the faint throbbing that was beginning to build up lest he give into the sudden and inexplicable urge to bite something. Even his fingers tightened around his upper arm as sudden thoughts of lashing out again began to pull at the shaking muscles.  
“It sure doesn’t look like nothing.” Peter commented, his brow drawing low sternly. The Guardian’s had become accustomed to the raccoon’s reclusiveness and knew that simply ‘asking nicely’ wasn’t going to get them anywhere, much to Rocket’s discouragement. “Rocket, what’s going on?”  
A twitch in his right hand, causing sharp claws to pierce his own skin.  
“Nothing I can’t handle, Quill.”  
A high pitched ringing began blaring in his head, making him wince.  
Of course, Peter took notice. “Rocket, whatever this is, you don’t have to face it alone.” He stated plainly, looking at Rocket with an expression that Rocket hated, pity.  
He was nothing to pity. He was Rocket, the gun-toting, easily angered, explosion obsessed raccoon. His time being tortured as an instrument of mass destruction, crammed full of loose wires and shards of steel on Half-world was left behind him, never to resurface again. He had let his guard down once while on Knowhere while in a drunken rage and he was careful ever since not to allow that to happen again.  
He didn’t care if the others thought he was an uncaring and relentless jerk. That was the point of this cover he tried so hard to keep up. He was not weak and, he was not some thing to be pitied.  
So, being his usual, apathetic self, Rocket rolled his eyes, pushing back the urge to act out despite his limbs deciding upon taking on a mind of their own. Claws latched further into his skin to keep them anchored. “Nice to know I’ve got the support.” He said, sarcasm dripping off every word. “Now, if you would be so kind as to move, oh noble one.”  
He didn’t knew where he was going to go seeing as though the Milano was not a large ship by any means, but he did know that staying in this room any longer, especially with Groot and, more annoyingly, Starlord, breathing down his back, wasn’t about to help him in any way. He had to figure out what was going on with himself, and that wasn’t about to happen with the rest of the Guardians trying to create a team bonding moment out of his current situation.  
Sure he enjoyed the company, in fact, it warmed his heart to know that he had someone to rely on (not that he would ever admit it,) but he was never one to need that kind of attention. Even Groot had reluctantly given in to Rocket’s desire to tend to himself.  
It wasn’t that he liked to wrap his own wounds or thought of anyone else less when he helped tend to their injuries, it was the fact that he could. The fact that he was more than some animal that was in constant need of attention, but someone that was useful and could take care of himself.  
He knew it was unnecessary as it was made painfully clear that none of the Guardians thought of him as useless or a liability, but it was comforting and they reluctantly obliged.  
“Wait what?” Peter called as Rocket made his way quickly past him, tail twitching madly behind him as it was the only appendage he had yet to gain control of. “Where do you think you’re going? We need to talk about this.”  
“No thanks!” The raccoon shouted back, shaking his head to the side as though he could somehow jostle the ringing sound from his skull.  
Peter pursed his lips and frowned toward Groot who was still seated cross-legged on the floor with a confused look on his wooden face. It unnerved the man to no end how uncooperative Rocket could be, but he knew that simply ignoring the irritable creature at a time like this wasn’t going to end well. So, with an annoyed sigh, he decided to follow.  
“Stay here, I’ll go talk to him.” He grumbled, gesturing for the Flora Colossus to stay put. Groot frowned sadly, but nodded anyhow, allowing Peter to take off after the smallest Guardian whilst he began to gather pieces of the torn blanket from their bedroom floor.  
Peter knew that it was uncomfortable for Groot to be left out of the confrontation with his friend. It was clear from the beginning that the two unlikely friends were inseparable, and the other Guardians happily took a step back when it came to siding with either being. But Peter couldn’t help but wonder if Groot would actually prove to be the best of problem solvers in this situation.  
Of course, he knew the reclusive raccoon the best and no one would dare argue that fact. But the reason the gentle giant managed to get along so well with Rocket in the first place was his ability to be absolutely and unbelievably patient with him. Groot allowed Rocket his tantrums and outbursts of anger before consoling him about anything, which, in any other circumstance, was the best way of getting through to the raccoon, allowing him to open up on his own terms.  
Unfortunately, this was not one of those circumstances seeing as though it didn’t seem that Rocket was about to open himself up to anybody. His earlier outburst with Drax, and even his small panic attack over not being able to fix his own gun was so out of character for the usually snarky and quick-witted Guardian that it unnerved Peter to no end.  
Which, of course, was why he was tracking down the creature now as he veered around another corner of the Milano and stumbling down a flight of stairs below deck.  
Peter bit his lip as he followed, wincing when Rocket lost his footing, faltering in his last steps before collapsing to his hands and knees on the floor. He wasn’t sure if his friend knew that he was being followed by the Terran, but judging by the frantic twitching and swiveling of his ears, it didn’t seem he was picking any footsteps as Quill’s boots met the metallic stairs.  
“Rocket?” He called out experimentally, not daring to take the last step down lest he make the situation worse. Luckily, the raccoon seemed to pick up on this as his back stiffened immensely and he launched himself back into a standing position. Peter forced himself not to reach out and stabilize him as Rocket turned quickly to face the man, stumbling back slightly and resting a hand on a crate to steady himself.  
The downstairs area wasn’t used by the Guardians much, even Peter hadn’t used it for much more than storage when he had the Milano to himself. But Rocket had seen the open space and had taken the isolated area for his own as a lab of some sorts, not that it means less of a mess aboard the rest of the ship which still had at least one unfinished weapon in every room, but the small room downstairs at least gave him space when he felt especially trigger-happy. The last thing he had created before Quill had offered him the room was a portable slime grenade that he had oh-so-kindly tested in the kitchen.  
“Quill, I thought I told you to leave me alone.” The raccoon practically seethed, his claws carving tiny grooves into the wood of the crate.  
“What, and miss out on arguing with you?” He retorted lightheartedly, hoping to appeal to the raccoon’s more sarcastic persona. Unfortunately that was not what he got.  
Rocket let out a noise that, if Peter hadn’t known any better, would have sounded an awful lot like an animalistic growl. Luckily, he knew better and didn’t dare bring it up as Rocket glared angrily at him.  
“Listen, Quill.” He managed, bringing a hand to his forehead and running the skin wearily. “I’m not really up to dealing with this crap right now. I’ve spent all morning crammed in that hellhole you call an engine and I’m tired okay?”  
To be honest, Peter was actually surprised at the amount of control Rocket was showing despite the clenching and unclenching of his fists and the wild thrashing of his ringed tail. Perhaps his twisted version of therapy was working after all.  
“Yeah, you really seem tired, especially after tearing your bed to shreds.” He answered, continuing with the banter. “What, you planning on making a nest with the scraps or something? I didn’t know raccoon’s hibernated.”  
He bit his tongue when Rocket’s gaze hardened, his eyes almost darkening at the mention of a rather animalistic behavior. Peter held both hands out in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.” He said truthfully, knowing full well that his joking had gone too far.  
But it did nothing to calm the raccoon. “I am not some animal Quill.” He seethed through clenched teeth. “Don’t you dare call me one.”  
“I’m not! Listen, I’m sorry. I went too far with that.” The man retorted, trying to calm the raging raccoon down, his antics were actually beginning to become rather frustrating.  
“Please, leave.” The words only annoyed Peter more. There was only so far someone could push themselves into a corner before being forced to take another route though, so he persisted.  
“No, Rocket, we’re a team here, and right now, you’re the only one that’s not acting like it! Why can’t you just trust us to help you?”   
Rocket wasn’t listening though as another growl escaped his throat and his hands flew up to cover his ears, pinning them to his head and turning around so that his back faced Peter. “Go away!” He shouted, kicking angrily at a stray tool on the floor and sending it hurtling against the wall.  
“No, either you tell me what’s going on right now, or I pick you up and take you upstairs to face the others.” The Terran threatened, knowing full well that the raccoon didn’t take kindly to the whole ‘intervention’ idea.  
“No!” Was the only response he got.  
So, with the raccoon insisting on retreating further into his maze of weaponry, Quill finally decided to take charge of the issue at hand and face it head-on. Which in this case meant making a grab for Rocket and toting him upstairs. Unfortunately, his less-than-twelve-percent of a plan hadn’t played out exactly the way he had hoped.  
Hoping to simply pull the stubborn Guardian closer, Peter’s hand wrapped securely around his tail, a mistake he would be sure never to make again as the raccoon reacted instantly.  
Hands dropped from his ears as he wrenched himself around to face the threat, sharp nails piercing the skin of Peter’s forearm, making him lose his grip on the furry appendage. He cried out in pain as a trail of blood began to flow down his wrist and made to retreat back up the stairs when he realized that Rocket wasn’t done.  
In fact, he had barely managed to process exactly what was happening before the creature made a leap for his face, tearing new wounds at his ears and cheeks as the man fell back in surprise. “What the hell man?” He shouted angrily, grabbing hold of Rocket’s hands and forcing him back.  
But whoever was attacking him right now was sure as hell not Rocket. He had hardly been given the chance to see the look of pure blackness in the creature’s unfocused eyes before it leaned down to sink its teeth into his skin.  
He let out another shout, clutching his wound and inspecting it closely when the sound of a gun’s safety being switched off made him freeze, looking up warily towards the small yet deadly ray-gun pointed at his forehead. Where and when the animal had gotten it was a mystery to him, but he determined and furious look in its glassy gaze told him it didn’t really matter.  
The creature moved its index finger to the trigger when the door to the lab was slammed open heavy footsteps racing down the steps towards the two.  
“Peter!” Gamora shouted, freezing when she caught sight of Rocket standing on top of the fallen man’s chest, holding the ray-gun mere inches from his head.  
“Peter?”  
All eyes turned to face the shaky voice as the raccoon with the gun furrowed his brow with confusion, the whites of his eyes suddenly becoming visible again as hey refocused themselves upon the Terran in front of him. Confusion quickly turned to horror as his gaze turned from Peter to the gun in his hands, dropping in instantly and staring at the now shaking appendages fearfully.  
However he wasn’t given much time to process what exactly had just happened when a large fist, provided by Drax the Destroyer himself, knocked him off of Peter’s chest and into a pile of crates, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

Gamora rolled her eyes as peter let out a pained cry (along with a string of words she would have been grateful to forget) as she pulled the needle back towards herself again, tying off the knot and using her teeth to snap the black thread. The claw marks across his arm were no deeper than Drax’s matching set, but his Terran skin made an open wound much more susceptible to infection.  
She let go of the man’s arm and he pulled it close to his chest, inspecting the stitches as though looking for a fault, sticking is bottom lip out in a pouting motion. “You could have at least given me a pain reliever or something before sticking a needle in me.” He murmured, toying with the ends of one of the tightly done knots with an index finger.  
“Oh right, here.” The woman said, tossing him a bottle of aspirin.  
Quill only hardened his glare, popping a few pills in his mouth and swallowing them down dry, cringing at the powdery taste left on his tongue. “How’s Rocket doing?” He asked, rolling his shoulder back and pulling the rolled up sleeve of his red leather jacket back down. Gamora only raised an eyebrow. “What? I mean we just knocked the dude out, probably has some concussion or something now.”  
“Did he not just try to kill you?” Drax questioned, looking up from where he had been cleaning his knives. They had landed the Milano after the endeavor with Rocket’s surprise alter-ego attack on a nearby planet, hoping to keep the chances of becoming lost in space with a trigger happy raccoon to a minimum.  
Peter frowned. “What? No! I mean yes, but you guys didn’t see what I saw.” He stammered, trying his best to describe the not-Rocket Rocket.  
“Probably because our eyes were more on the gun he was pointing at your head. Rocket’s anger is getting out of hand.” Gamora retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.  
“What are you saying? We get him a therapy session? I don’t think he’s going to be much up for meditation.” Peter mocked. He knew this new issue with Rocket was only getting worse the more it was pushed back, but he somehow didn’t think that holding hands in a circle and talking about the stubborn Raccoon’s feelings were going to fix anything.  
Gamora’s expression hardened, her eyes darting downward a though she were hesitant to speak at all. “I’m saying, if Rocket doesn’t get his means of destruction under control, he should no longer be allowed on board the ship.”  
The room went quiet almost instantly, everyone’s eyes traced on Gamora as she shifted uncomfortably under their gaze.  
“I am Groot!” The tree man stated angrily, stepping forward as a barrier between the Guardians and the hallway entrance as though expecting one of them to take off that very instant towards Rocket’s quarters.  
“Wow, relax, big guy.” Peter said, gesturing for the angered Flora Colossus to stand down as thorned tendrils sprang from his broad shoulders. “No one is throwing Rocket out.”  
Groot visibly calmed at the remark, shrinking back in the slightest and giving Peter a grateful and trusting nod. He knew that it took a lot to separate the raccoon and tree creature, and how hard it must have been to stand in the cockpit with the three remaining Guardians while Rocket served his time under house arrest, or more room arrest seeing as though they had just rigged his door for the time being.  
“But Quill, you must admit that you sense the presence of fish in this particular situation.” Drax noted. “The furred one has been acting quite strange lately, even before trying to murder you.”  
Peter placed his head in his hands, rubbing his temple methodically. The Guardians were a great team, really, he couldn’t have asked for anything better, but he would have to be an absolute idiot not to see that they had their run-ins every once and a while. And this particular issue happened to be a very large one in terms of ‘getting over it.’  
“He didn’t try to ‘murder’ me Drax.” He murmured, although he knew his measly excuse for an argument wasn’t enough to satisfy either Drax or Gamora as the green skinned woman turned sharply toward him, reaching for his arm and tugging the sleeve of his coat back.  
“What the-“ But he was cut off as Gamora forced the many tightly woven stitches covering his forearm into his line of sight.  
“He had a gun to your head Quill, how do we know we don’t have a traitor on our hands?”  
“I AM GROOT!”  
Peter stood up and walked over to the now furious Guardian as he glared angrily at Gamora for even thinking such a thing. “Rocket is not a traitor. The dude may not wear his heart on his sleeve, but he wouldn’t attack anyone on this ship like that unless something were seriously wrong.” He argued, pulling the sleeve back down and crossing his arms.  
“Why not? I betrayed Thanos?” Gamora countered. It was obvious that neither she nor Drax really wanted their smallest mechanic gone, but neither of them could shake the feeling that someone had to take action before something even worse than Quill almost getting shot happened.  
Peter pursed his lips. “Yeah, but I don’t recall murdering Rocket’s family and forcing him to work for us as a master assassin. Listen, before we talk any more about kicking him out, I’m going to go talk to him.” Gamora opened her mouth to speak but was stopped as Peter turned sharply towards her. “Whatever is happening with Rocket, he can’t control it. And it’s our job as team members to fix it.” He said curtly before turning on a heel and taking off down the hallway.  
He didn’t really know what he was going to do once he made it to Rocket’s quarters or even if the raccoon was awake yet. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t pray all the way there that Rocket’s eyes remained focused.  
…  
Rocket blinked his eyes open blearily, letting out a barely audible groan. Had he passed out again? The raccoon rolled over on the mattress, facing towards the ceiling of his dark room. How had he gotten back here? Had he ever left?  
He began to wonder if the whole experience with Groot finding him after practically tearing his room apart had even transpired when he felt a long gash in the front of his suit, picking at it absentmindedly with his fingers while trying to remember exactly what had happened and how he had ended up back in his tattered bed.  
“Oh crap.” He whispered to himself, bolting upright and almost toppling off of the mattress entirely. His memory was hazy still, almost as though he were missing bits and pieces of it as he racked his brain. But one thing he did remember was standing on top of a bloody and downright scared looking Quill with a pistol in his hand before everything went black. And judging by the fact that his head was now pounding even more than before, he could only guess that he had been knocked out.  
He didn’t even think to try the door, knowing full well that it was locked. There was no way the others would let him out after what he had just done to Quill. Pulling his knees to his chest and dropping his head into his hands, Rocket began to run his thin fingers through his fur.  
“Oh god, what’s happening?” He murmured, rubbing his temples with his thumbs.  
“Funny, I was about to ask the same thing.”  
Rocket’s head snapped up as the door to his chambers slid open, Peter stepping in and crossing his arms. He wanted nothing more than to growl at the Terran man to get out of his room, leaving him to his own thoughts, and he almost did had he not caught sight of the dried blood on his brow. “Please tell me that’s the worst of it.” He grumbled, rubbing his face and pulling on the fur lining his cheeks.  
Quill only pursed his lips, closing the door tightly behind him as though afraid the raccoon would make a break for his guns again. Which, now that he looked about his cabin, the room had been stripped of all weapons and devices entirely, not that he blamed them really. “You may have also torn up my arm and pointed a gun at my head, but that’s not important.” He said casually, rubbing subconsciously at his lower arm.  
“Ugh, perfect.” Rocket felt his ears press against the fur atop his head as he sank lower into his curled position, his tail falling onto his lap.  
Peter frowned upon seeing his ring-tailed partner as he clutched his head. “Rocket, what happened?” He asked, stepping closer to the raccoon and taking a seat beside him, brow drawing low as Rocket inched away, his claws digging further into his fur and refusing to look up to face him.  
Rocket remained quiet however, instead resigning to staring down at his lap as though counting the black and brown stripes on his twitching tail, fidgeting uncomfortably under the man’s gaze.   
“Rocket.” He tried again, leaning down into the raccoon’s line of sight, trying his best to gain his attention.  
And it must have worked since Rocket’s head snapped up, face drawn into an angry snarl and his arms locking straight so that his hands grasped tightly at the sheets underneath him. “Nothing happened, I’m fine!” He practically shouted, his shoulders beginning to shake ever so slightly.  
“Yeah, well I’ve got some stitches in my arm that would say otherwise.”  
Rocket only scoffed, flexing his fingers stiffly and staring at his palms as though they were completely new to him, eyes flickering almost nervously toward the pointed claws at the tips, scraping them against one another experimentally.  
Peter let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. He valued his crew, had even begun to see them as family over the past few months that they had been deemed the ‘Guardians.’ But the raccoon certainly did have his ways of testing the half-Terran’s patience.  
And it wouldn’t usually have bothered him either. In fact, the testy ring tail had never been one to show his be especially sensitive or thoughtful to anyone else on board the Milano, and his anger was almost always the cause for most of the disturbances between partners. Whether it be one of the other Guardians finding one of his many discarded bombs among their own belongings, or simply touching a bit too close to his ‘sensitive’ side, if your could even call it that.  
But Rocket’s stubbornness unfortunately also effected exactly how lacking his trust in the other Guardians was. The fact that he couldn’t have enough faith in his companions to help him when it was in his best interest unnerved Peter to no end.  
“Listen, Rocket. Whatever’s happening, you can tell me.”  
An uneasy laugh bubbled out of the raccoon, his hands simply clenching and unclenching shakily as though practicing the motion in itself. “That’s just it, I don’t know what’s happening.”  
Peter pursed his lips again, reaching out to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder in hopes of ceasing the quivering of his limbs. However, he didn’t feel more than a bristle of his companion’s standing fur before Rocket had practically launched himself to the opposite side of the mattress, leaning against the wall to keep himself upright as his footing almost gave way to the edge of the bed.  
“No! Don’t touch me, I’ll do it again.”  
“Do what again? Rocket, you can trust us, we-“  
“NO!” Peter jumped back in shock, holding a hand out in front of his eyes as another streak of crimson took shape on his wrist. He was snapped out of his stupor when he heard a barely audible whimper, looking back up to find Rocket staring back at him, his eyes wide with horror.  
“Wait, Rocket.” He began as quietly as possible, holding his palms out in a calming gesture. However the raccoon’s eyes only trailed the thin line he had left. Rocket was shaking again, his eyes flickering from Peter’s to his own hands and his breath picking up in speed. “Rocket, it’s nothing, just tell me what’s happening. I want to help. We can all-“  
“I can’t control it.”  
It was hardly a whisper, but it made Peter freeze nonetheless. And that brief moment gave the panicking animal enough time to carry out his next plan of action, yanking open the unlocked door and taking off in a full sprint down the hallway.  
Peter was on his feet in an instant. “Shit, Rocket wait!” He called after the raccoon who had given up on standing upright all together, pitching forward onto all fours and skidding around a corner, almost crashing head on into a large pair of legs.  
Rocket leaped backwards, backing himself against the wall and edging himself away from Drax   
“Rocket?” his ears swiveled towards the new voice, Gamora standing from her own seat at the controls.  
“Rocket, wait!” The raccoon flinched again, inching even further into a corner as Quill came into sight, running as fast as he could into the room, sealing off any chance of escape.  
“Quill, what’s happening?” Gamora asked, a hint of anger in her voice as she gestured to the panicking creature who was raking marks into the metal walls of the cockpit. Although Peter ignored her, pushing past the other occupants in the room and towards Rocket, crouching down the closer he got.  
“Rocket?”  
“No!” He shouted, his body beginning to lose feeling, his hands reaching behind him almost mechanically, his ears and tail spasaming as he began to lose control once again. “I- I can’t stop it.”  
“I am Groot.”  
The booming voice almost made him leap out of his skin entirely, fur standing on end and his body swiveling so quickly towards the tree man that had come up behind him that he almost lost his footing, stumbling against the wall. His breath hitched in his throat then his large friend only brought himself closer, his heavy footfall sounding loudly until they were almost echoing in Rocket’s racing mind.  
“Stay back!” He growled between bared teeth, hands flying up as thought to protect himself, although what he found grasped in his unfeeling palms made Peter’s blood run cold.  
“Rocket!” Gamora shouted, stepping slowly towards him. The raccoon’s head snapped towards her, aiming the newly acclaimed weapon in her direction, although even he didn’t know how it had come to be in his possession in the first place. Her expression softened instantly, eyes traced on the barrel of the blaster. “Rocket, put the gun down. You don’t know what you’re doing.”  
Another growl sounded from the creature, and this time it wasn’t just Peter who noticed his eyes had become unfocused, his pupils dilating until the whites of his eyes were almost completely blocked out.  
Peter barely had time to register that the weapon had charged before Rocket had pulled the trigger and a blinding light of plasma pitched itself from the nozzle. He opened his eyes again to find, to his relief, that Drax had managed to throw himself at Gamora in time to remove her from the blast’s path.  
Sparks flew everywhere and the remaining Guardians struggled to shield themselves from the fallen ceiling panels that rained down upon them. Of course, with their luck, that wasn’t the end of it as Peter’s ears picked up on the high pitched whirring of gears as Rocket charged the gun for another blast, not even deciding on a target before pulling back on the trigger again, turning sharply towards a certain Flora Colossus as he reached forward to wrench the weapon from his friend’s hands.  
“No!” The word had barely left his mouth before Quill was forced to shield his eyes again, wincing as sharp splinters of burned wood rained down upon him.  
Groot hadn’t even made a sound, his dark eyes locked on his friend with a deep sense of sadness and what Peter could almost count as betrayal as his gaze moved ever so slowly from a seething Rocket, who was holding his still smoking gun tightly in his clawed hands, to the large hole in his chest.  
The room fell silent, the only sound being the animal’s heavy breathing as he watched his friend fall backwards, staring horrified at his disembodied arm that had been all but destroyed in the explosion, along with the majority of the tree man’s torso.  
Gamora was the first to react, leaping from her position under Drax’s protective hold and directly at Rocket, slamming her foot into his chest and wrenching the gun from his shaking hands. He let out a discouraged shout of anger, clawing furiously at her leg, only to be kicked again, sending his head slamming hard against the wall.  
She watched as his eyes rolled to the back of his head before removing her foot from his body, turning towards Groot to assess the damage the creature had done. His incinerated limb would grow back, that fact they were all aware of, although it didn’t stop any of them, Groot included, from staring with looks of horror at the blackened and smoking hole that had been torn through his body.  
“Groot?”  
Gamora turned quickly, not wasting a moment in whipping out her own weapon, pointing the blade towards Rocket as he began to push himself up shakily. Although his gaze wasn’t trained on the assassin’s blade for long before they flickered weakly toward Groot, brow creasing in confusion before his eyes snapped open, drawing in a gasp of shock and jumping to his feet.  
“Groot!” He shouted, making to reach out towards his friend, only to have his wrist caught by Drax’s iron grip. “Lemme go you big dumb-“  
“Rocket.” Gamora snapped, pointing towards the injured being in question. “This has gone too far.”  
“What? No. It-it was an accident.” He stammered, struggling angrily to free himself from Drax’s grasp, which wrapped around his middle and picked him up, leaving the raccoon thrashing wildly in the air, trying his hardest to get to Groot’s side. “Let me go! Put me down!” He shouted, pounding fists angrily against the strong hands holding him.  
“Look at what you’ve done, Rocket! You think we can trust to let you go after that stunt you just pulled?” The voice made him cease in his writhing, eyes blinking open to face the destruction he had caused.  
“I-I didn’t mean to.” He managed, his throat suddenly becoming dry and his body going limp in Drax’s hands. “Whatever this is, I-I can fix it, I promise.”  
Drax’s hold loosened immensely as he looked up with an expression of concern as he faced the others. And, much to his surprise, Rocket used this newfound wiggle room to his advantage, kicking himself from the man’s hands and landing on the hard floor with a grunt, scrambling to his feet in an instant in order to evade anyone else from grabbing him again.  
“I can fix this.” His voice had dropped to barely a whisper as he gave Groot one last glance before disappearing back down the hallway leaving the rest in a stunned silence until they heard the airlock doors slamming closed behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

Rocket didn’t know how long he had run since stumbling off of the ship, but he was sure as hell thankful that the other Guardians had decided to dock the Milano, allowing him means of escape. He didn’t even know what planet he was on and hadn’t given a moment to stop and take into consideration exactly where he was planning on going, but he did know one thing for sure. He had to keep moving.  
He ran until the pads of his feet hurt and his ridged breaths had become so labored he was sure his lungs would burst if he kept going. And he would have had his blurring vision and a sudden spasm in his lower limbs caused him to lose his footing.  
His fall hadn’t even processed fully in his mind until he blinked his eyes open blearily in confusion, finding himself sprawled out on his stomach, his head only throbbing harder against his skull as it rested on the pavement. It had also occurred to him while working dizzily to push himself back onto all fours that he was not alone on the streets as many of the confused pedestrians began to approach the collapsed raccoon.  
“Is it okay?”  
“Where did he come from?”  
The warbled voices were enough to cause the already frantic raccoon into a panic attack without the sudden presence of almost a dozen humanoids surrounding him, one even making the mistake of reaching down to prod his shoulder.  
Having been one to often times avoid backwater planets such as this one seeing as though they lacked the more advanced technology he was so drawn to, and often forgot that seeing a walking and talking cybernetic raccoon racing madly through the streets was not an often occurrence in their more simple lives.  
“Don’t touch me!” He practically shouted, swatting away the hands and rolling himself over so that he was balancing on all fours, backing up as far as he could away from the shocked faces.  
He hadn’t even allowed them time to process the information before having found his escape route in a gap in the circle of people that surrounded him and taking off running again. Gasps and shouts of surprise sounded behind him as he tore through the crowd, veering around the corner of a tall brick building and into a darkened alleyway, taking shelter behind one of the large rusty trash bins, resisting the urge to gag at the putrid smell.  
Not that it was really the worst of his worries as he collapsed to his knees, holding his head tightly in his hands.  
“Gah! No, not again.” He managed through gritted teeth as he pulled angrily at his sensitive ears, trying anything in order to keep control of his own mind as it flared with pain, almost like an electrical surge pulsing throughout his entire being.  
A few labored breaths and countless bleeding claw marks later, Rocket was finally able to force his eyes open again, taking in a shaky gasp as his lungs were manually reminded that they did indeed have a part in keeping the raccoon alive. He clutched his chest with one hand, fingers grasping at the orange material as though the stuff were keeping him from breathing. And the more he tried reminding himself that it was doing him no damage besides the occasional snag on one of his damned implants, the more the clothing felt like it was constricting around his chest.  
No. Dammit keep it together Rocky. He ordered himself, ignoring the coppery taste in his mouth as his sharp teeth punctured his tongue and forcing more air in through his nose, using his sudden craving for tearing something apart in a single burst of energy in ramming a fist into the side of the trash bin, letting out a howl of pain. Not that it stopped him however as he kept thrusting punches at the container, listening to the sound of the rippling metal until his knuckles bled.  
With each punch, a new image began to take form in his mind. Peter’s bloodied face. All the people he had ever hurt. The doctors and scientist. The bodies he had left behind… Groot.  
The beatings of his clenched fists against the dumpster came to a stop. What had he done? His ragged breathing was finally slowing as he let his arms hand limply at his sides, resting is forehead against the cool meal and allowing a shameless sob to rack his body. What had he done?  
…  
Rocket fidgeted in his chair. He had taken to isolating himself outside what looked to be some café. Although with how dark the night had become since finding a virtually abandoned area to make his call, he really couldn’t tell.  
The wide and transparent tablet he had managed to nab shook slightly in his wavering grasp as he bit his bottom lip hard enough to break skin, not that he noticed.  
He had been contemplating his options for the past few hours, hoping that over some time he would manage to think up a semi-decent plan, or at least eleven percent of one. But luck, as usual, was not on his side as his spasms and periodic blackouts only became more frequent the longer he waited, leaving with very little choice in the matter.  
He clutched the tablet tightly, tapping it nervously with his claws and allowing his eyes to dart about the empty dimly lit streets as though searching for another way out of this mess he had managed to create for himself.  
Regrettably, flickering streetlamps and empty bottles littering the asphalt didn’t amount to much of a plan, leaving the jittery raccoon without anything else to turn to besides maybe giving up on it all and finding a bar on this backwater planet. Drinking himself into unconsciousness actually seemed to be a much more appealing strategy at this point. But seeing as though fate seemed to have it out for him, he had barely begun to consider the plan before a sharp pain in his spine made him almost double over out of his seat entirely, clutching his skull as a raging headache threatened to force him under.  
Forcing his eyes open and focusing intently on the glass tablet in his palms.  
His spindly fingers flew across the screen as he hacked into the thing’s settings, and pulling up the files he knew he needed. He was well aware that Nova, once they found he had managed to weasel his way into their system, would be able to trace everything back to him, he wouldn’t be surprised if the Guardians had already sent an armada after their runaway raccoon. But it didn’t stop him nonetheless as he scrolled through Nova’s files, catching his breath in his throat when his desired title came into sight.  
Tapping on the title ‘Halfworld’ with a shaky hand, he closed his eyes, allowing the tablet to load the stolen information. He couldn’t tell if he was glad or horribly discouraged by the fact that it had been the Xandarian government to put the illegal experimentation to an end seeing as though they had managed to take and upload all Halfworld information and notes the scientists had taken as evidence.  
He took a deep breath before forcing his eyes open again to look at the brightly lit screen as the tablet let out a high pitched chime to indicate that it had finished in downloading all Halfworld files. Pursing his lips together and swallowing hard as his fingers went back to the surface, typing in the code that had practically engraved itself into his mind.  
89P13.  
Results appeared instantly, bombarding the already twitchy raccoon’s vision with images of a tethered down animal on a metallic table with wires and implants protruding from its back and scribbled in notes of ‘future’ modifications to be made to the writhing creature. It took all of his strength not to smash the tablet on the ground as a sudden wave of nausea caused his stomach to lurch.  
It was with a shaky breath and the mental image of Groot’s disembodied arm that Rocket forced himself to continue scrolling through 89P13’s files, hoping that the information he needed wasn’t too much further. And, to his astonishment and relief, it only took about a minute of scanning the page to find it, his hands scrambling to double-tap the picture of the older man with the round glasses and open up yet another file, this one consisting more of scientific terms Rocket didn’t care and most certainly didn’t want to understand and an added couple of notes made by Nova after having taken the man into custody.  
He knew that most of the men and women from Halfworld had been arrested for their illegal experimentation, but, according to the research he had done those years ago in hopes of assuring himself of his safety, almost not one of them had received more than a year in prison for the torture they had put him and countless other creatures through as Nova decided that they would rather arrest a thieving raccoon that a mass of mad scientists, instead resorting to ‘keeping tabs’ on the Halfworlders instead.  
And for once, Rocket was glad that they had as he neared the bottom of the page, reading through the man’s information not sure whether to be relieved or panicked as he came upon his ‘creator’s’ contact.  
Not that it made much of a difference in his actions as he tapped the screen hesitantly, holding his breath, almost praying that it wouldn’t work. Of course, as luck would have it, the screen cleared itself of all Nova files and allowed the video feed window to open itself up, a long ringing that made Rocket’s heart pick up speed sounding loudly from the device.  
He was almost hoping he wouldn’t receive an answer at all as the ringing continued on for what seemed like an eternity, his ears twitching madly at the harsh tone, although he definitely would have preferred the blaring noise over the sight of a somewhat familiar looking man whose image appeared on his tablet.  
He looked just as Rocket had remembered him with the exception of his glasses changing shape from a wide circle to much thinner and rectangular frames that sat precariously at the edge of his nose, his greying hair tossed messily and his expression rather tired seeing as though his former subject’s call had most likely woken him up.  
His eyes squinted slightly upon looking at his own screen before widening immensely, a sudden bark of laughter that made Rocket jump emitting from the man’s open mouth.  
“Krei.” The raccoon managed irritably, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.  
“Well, if it isn’t 89P13.” The man called loudly, his stunned expression being instantly replaced by a toothy grin that made Rocket shiver. Either that or it was another spasm, he honestly couldn’t tell at this point in time as he stared begrudgingly at the screen, resisting the urge to simply hang up on the man. “Can’t say I was expecting to see you again. How long has it been now, four years?” He continued, pulling out a chair and bringing himself closer to the screen.  
“Five.” The raccoon growled, crossing his arms and snarling back at the tablet in front of him, wanting nothing more than to smash the thing.  
“Bah, who’s counting? I thought I saw a familiar looking escapee on the news some time ago. And here we’d though you wouldn’t survive more than a week on your own, guess we were wrong, hey?”  
Rocket only grit his teeth further, wincing as a sudden jolt of energy ran through his spine, causing him to twitch violently, almost dropping the tablet.  
“Although.” The man continued, tapping his fingers together and narrowing his eyes at the twitching creature on the other end suspiciously. “This does beg the question of why I am being contacted by the great 89P13 in the first place doesn’t it? You haven’t finally come to terms with your modifications have you? Because, honestly, I’ve been working on some new ideas for some more enhancements.”  
“Shut it you flarkin piece of sh- gah!” Rocket cringed in pain, clutching his head with one hand while gripping the tablet tightly in the other as a raging headache took its place in his skull once again, only fading enough for him to risk opening his eyes again once the man had begun speaking again.  
“Hm, I see your vocabulary has expanded drastically since your time with me, however, I never did finish those procedures on your vocalization, I could-“  
“NO!” Rocket practically shouted, shaking the tablet as though it would somehow get his point across. “You’re not shoving any more wires int’ me or tearing me open again. I…” This time the tablet did slip from his grip, hitting the pavement below with a clatter as the raccoon doubled over on himself.  
He heard the sickening crack as a large fissure formed itself in the corner of the glass, disfiguring the picture of the somewhat intrigued looking man with a spider web break. His amused expression not going unnoticed by the raccoon as Rocket lurched forward, a spasm racking his body and sending him hurling to the asphalt beside the damned communicator.  
“I presume this is what you had called me for?” The voice snapped Rocket out of his dazed quivering as he pushed himself back into a sitting position, reaching for the tablet and gripping it in his shaky paws, not ever trying to sit himself back on the chair seeing as though his knees felt like they would give way had he even tried to stand.  
“Just tell me what’s happening to me.” He seethed, finding that talking had become a lot harder when his lungs were failing to take in any air.  
The man on the screen only leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the desktop in front of him and smirking almost triumphantly at the shivering creature on the other end. “Well, I hate to tell you this, but there are a few downsides to having allowed you to escape us before all modifications had been completed.” He answered, craning his neck as though to somehow get a better look at Rocket, who only shoved the tablet further from himself.  
“Meaning?” He demanded, his sharp claws raking hairline fractures into the glass.  
Krei only raised an eyebrow, contemplating the outcome of the information he possessed. Finally, he sat back in his seat almost leisurely, like he had suddenly grown bored of the conversation. “Meaning,” He finally began, tilting his glasses downward towards the raccoon’s picture. “You are not yet a finished product. As I had mentioned earlier, none of us had expected you to make it more than a week without us keeping up on your maintenance. But it seems like those years without my care has finally caught up to you seeing as though your system seems to be malfunctioning.”  
Rocket sneered at the comment, wanting nothing more than to drop the tablet and leave, unfortunately he still had a problem in need of answers. “I don’t ‘malfunction’ you bastard, I ain’t a gun.” He managed, swallowing hard as the man only smiled wider.  
“No, but you are a weapon.”  
“You shut up or I swear-“  
“You’ll kill me?” Rocket was cut off and a breath hitched in his throat, his dark eyes flickering up to meet the man on the screen. “I didn’t create you to help the needy, Subject.” His voice had gone from amused to downright blood curling in only a matter of moments as he practically spat out the words, knowing all too well how Rocket would react to the use of his former titles. “You were designed to destroy, to kill.”  
“No.” Rocket’s hands clenched tightly, hiding his claws from sight by digging them further into his palms, drawing blood and causing him to bite his lip with pain.  
“No? Exactly how many people have you killed since Halfworld? Not to mention your own caretakers at the facility you so brutally maimed before making your escape. Tell me, how does it feel to be ‘free,’ knowing every day that their blood is on your hands.”  
“Caretakers!” Rocket shouted furiously, slamming his fists at the tablet, causing another shatter in the glass. “You bastards never did anything for me. Everything you did to ‘care’ for me was only to create an even bigger freak out of me! Tearing me apart and stuffing my back with implants that never seem to stop hurting because of the pain you put me through. And you tell me you were taking care of me?”  
Krei frowned. “I think you’re forgetting one thing Subject.” He said, making sure to put the emphasis on his last word and smirking when he saw Rocket wince. “We made you. I created you, made you who you are today. Without me, you would still be some stupid animal scouring for food if not dead.”  
Rocket’s breathing had become rigid as he struggled to breathe, letting the tablet fall to the side entirely as he clutched his head, the pain in his damned headache becoming almost unbearable at this point. “Stop it!”  
“Why would you have called me unless it was true?” His creator continued, speaking even louder now that Rocket was no longer holding the device in his hands, making sure he got through to the cybernetic raccoon. “You need me to fix you. Because I’m the only one who knows how, who knows what you are.”  
“You don’t know anything!” Rocket shouted back allowing himself to let his rage take its action in grasping the chair he had been sitting in and flinging it onto its side with a loud clatter, leaving him in silence that was only broken by his own heavy breathing, an occasional sob bubbling up from his throat.  
His attention was only snapped back to the screen when he heard his creator shifting on the other end of the call. “I know what will happen if you don’t accept my help.” Rocket shot him a glare but stayed silent. “You’ll turn back into that monster you were when I first made you. That thing that you hated so much that you killed those who made your life possible.”  
Rocket hadn’t stopped shaking as he moved his gaze from the screen to the asphalt below him, now stained with small droplets of his own blood. “You really think I’d trust you for a moment to stop whatever this is?” He seethed, although his raging headache seemed to have zapped most of his energy as he stared dizzily at the tablet.  
Krei let out a chuckle before smiling knowingly back at the raccoon. “No, but It seems as though you’ve run out of options.” He said, grinning wider when Rocket closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of defeat. “Seeing as though you managed to contact me, I assume you will know where to find me.”  
“Why.” Rocket managed, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “You’re not getting me back you now, I have people who would kill you in an instant if you even try to shove another one of those damn implants in my body.” He said, although he wasn’t sure how true his threat actually was seeing as though he had almost killed his partners back on the Milano. A shiver ran up his spine just thinking about Groot’s condition, his large eyes filled with no more than remorse and betrayal.  
The man only pursed his lips. “Oh yes, I’m aware of the Guardians. I am also aware that they are not involved in your current decisions seeing as though you are calling me from what I could only guess is a stolen tablet in an abandoned street.” Rocket growled at this, baring his teeth at the man through the cracked screen. He only laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to risk going back to prison for kidnapping their little mascot, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to tinker around with my favorite subject again.”  
“I swear, you try anything funny and you’ll pay for it.” Rocket sneered back.  
The man smiled. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then. I’m looking forward to our appointment.” And with that the call ended, leaving Rocket shaking and hyperventilating in the abandoned alleyway with only the dim blue light emitted from the cracked tablet to see.  
Not that it lasted very long as the raccoon let out an angry shout, picking up the tablet in his hands and throwing it with as much force as his weakened limbs would allow him at the ground, only remembering to breathe again once he heard the loud shatter of glass upon the asphalt.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter frowned, leaning closer to the screen that hung in the cockpit, tapping the glass impatiently upon the icon under Rocket’s name, trying once again to connect with the raccoon’s comm. The screen turned blue and the faint sound of a mechanical ringing sounded as the call began pending, the persistent ringing causing the man’s shoulders to hunch as he let out a defeated sigh and rubbed his hands over his face.  
It wasn’t until Gamora made her way over to Peter’s side and switched the thing off that the man looked up again, scowling at the woman as she crossed her arms across her chest. “Rocket hasn’t answered in over two hours.” She said through gritted teeth, gripping the screen and pulling it out of Peter’s reach just as he was about to make the call for the ump-teenth time that day. “We are getting no closer to finding him by simply calling his Comm consistently.”  
Peter pursed his lips, letting out another sigh and leaning back in his chair, allowing his head to drop back. “Well then what do you suggest we do?” He asked irritably glancing at Gamora out of the corner of his eye.  
The sound of the airlock opening made Peter’s eyes shoot open as he whirled around in his seat to watch two forms board the Milano, both wearing saddened expressions. “Anything?” He asked hopefully, only slumping lower in is creaky chair when Drax shook his head stiffly, gripping the ever-present dagger tightly in his clenched fist.  
“There were citizens who had spotted the furred one earlier in this day, but we have lost all leads on where he could have gone within that time.” He answered, placing his hands on the table and craning his neck as though it were in pain.  
Groot only shuffled in behind the tattooed man, staring solemnly at the floor and glancing behind him at the door as though expecting Rocket to enter behind him.  
Peter groaned angrily, pushing himself from his seat and grabbing his trademark leather jacket, shoving his arms through the sleeves as he stormed past the other occupants of the room.  
“And where are you going?” Gamora asked, grabbing the man by the shoulder and placing herself in his path, only gripping his collar tighter when he tried to pull away.  
“I can’t just sit here anymore Gamora.” He sneered. “There’s something wrong with him, we can’t just leave him out there, he could get himself killed.”  
“Rocket can take care of himself Peter. We have yet to find him because Rocket doesn’t want to be found, for all we know, he could have found himself another ship and left the planet already.” She countered, furrowing her brow sternly and letting out an exasperated sigh when Peter only pulled away from her touch, pointing at her accusingly.  
“Then what are we supposed to do Gamora, huh? You were the one who wanted to throw him off of the ship in the first place, so why would you care?” He argued, only to find himself facing the true fury of an ex assassin. Although the murderous gleam in her eye told him that the ‘ex’ may be no longer part of her title.  
“Do not speak of me like that. You know I did not want him gone. Rocket is a vital part of our team. My words were only precautionary. In case-“  
“In case you decided he had become too much of a liability.”  
“I care for our team just as much as you Peter Quill, and you know I was only thinking what was best for all of us. I know now that my judgment was clouded by the fear that we were dealing with a traitor, I know now that I was wrong to believe that and we will find Rocket.” She managed through gritted teeth. “But we will not find him by running blindly through the streets and running the sound of our communicator’s ringing like it was a song on your damned mix tape!”  
The green skinned woman only frowned more turning to Drax and Groot who were standing behind them at the controls of the Milano.  
“I agree with the woman.” Drax proclaimed, not noticing Gamora’s sneer at her title. “Continuing this incessant ringing of your communication device is bringing us no closer to finding the furred one. He may be unstable at the moment, but he is still more than resourceful, and could be anywhere and growing further as we speak.”  
Peter had yet to turn away from the still open airlock, staring at the exit as he considered still taking off down the ramp and after the ringtail. The Guardians hadn’t been a team for long, and none of them had really taken the time to sit down and ‘bond.’ But Peter liked to think that they had all grown pretty close in the amount of time they’d been together.  
Rocket, however, had remained as stubborn as ever, resigning instead to working silently on his weapons or secluding himself in the interworkings of the Milano, claiming that they needed constant fixing. Only now that Quill was looking back on it all did he realize just how much he had allowed the raccoon to isolate himself.  
He tore his gaze from the doors, turning to face the others but not daring to meet their eyes as he rubbed a hand over his face and through his hair. “Then what do we do?” He managed, his voice muffled by his hand.  
“Can we not simply use Rocket’s communication device to track him?” Drax asked, reaching towards the hanging tablet and tapping the screen with his large fingers, obviously having no knowledge of how the device worked as he shook the screen slightly when its blackened monitor refused to come alight.  
“Rocket hasn’t been answering his Comm all evening, he’s probably gotten rid of the damn thing already if not destroyed it.” Peter argued back. Tracking the raccoon had been his first reaction after he had taken off onto the unknown planet, only to find that the tracking chip inside the device he carried had been all but untraceable. “He doesn’t want to be found, and he’ll take every precaution to make sure we don’t.”  
“Why would our friend not want to be found in his time of distress?” Drax asked curiously, giving up on forcing the lights of the tablet on and instead resigning to simply squinting threateningly at the blank screen, nodding in appreciation when Gamora reached over and pressed the red button on the side.  
“I don’t know.” Peter answered honestly. “But there is something wrong with him that he can’t control. His-his eyes they-“  
“Quill.” Gamora stopped him, placing both hands squarely on his shoulders and turning him so that he faced her. “We know, we saw. I was wrong before about Rocket and we are not leaving him, but you need to gain control of yourself. You are our captain, we follow your lead from here on out, I will not intervene this time.”  
“Wh- why does the image of this man’s face obstruct the screen?” Drax said in confusion, pulling the tablet closer and searching behind it as though he could somehow remove the picture of the Nova officer from the back.  
“Wait!” Gamora was almost thrown off of the man completely as Peter whirled around to face the screen, pulling the thing from Drax’s firm grip and staring at the glowing portrait of Dey as it lit up brightly, the faint sound of the communicator ringing in the background. “It’s Nova.” He said before tapping the image.  
The ringing stopped almost instantly and the blue tinted picture faded into that of full color as Dey’s stern face appeared on the screen. “Dey!” Peter practically shouted, causing the almost angry looking man to flinch in surprise. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you. We’ve got a problem.”  
The officer only raised a brow at the man before leaning forward. “Yeah? Seems we’ve got one too. It appears as though someone somehow managed to hack into our files here at Nova, seems as though whoever it was happened to be concerned about some certain files that are almost impossible to get into without a specific skillset. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” He asked, almost mockingly.  
Peter turned to face the others, staring wide eyed as Gamora’s jaw dropped entirely. “Rocket.” He whispered. “W-when did this happen, can you trace where he hacked it from?” He asked.  
Dey furrowed his brow in confusion. “You don’t know where he is?” He asked.  
Drax was the one to answer the question as he stepped forward from behind the tablet and eyed the screen suspiciously as though studying the thing. “Our companion had left our ship and we have no means of communicating with him. If you are able to track the place from which your incompetent facility was hacked, your help would be greatly appreciated.”  
Dey almost seemed taken aback by this. “I don’t think incompetent is really the word, I mean-“  
“Dey.” Gamora interrupted. “We are in dire need of your help. There is something wrong with Rocket, if he remains alone for much longer, we don’t even know how much his state could deteriorate. If you have any way of tracing him, we need to know.”  
The officer only nodded, quickly typing something on his own keyboard.  
…  
The coordinates Dey had given them had, to the remaining teams’ relief, been located to still be on the planet, not too far into the city they had landed in. Although locating a shady raccoon in the dark of the night on a planet none of the Guardians had even begun to navigate was proving harder than one would have thought.  
The streets were narrow and twisted every which way, making locating the coordinates themselves rather difficult as they made their way through another pathway that snaked through the darker side of the town.  
It wasn’t until Gamora stopped in her tracks, gripping the device in her hand and letting it drop to her side that any of the members had spoken. “Is this where our Xandarian friend directed us?” Drax asked, looking around as if hoping to find Rocket simply sitting on the street curb.  
Peter shook his head angrily. “Perfect, another dead end.” He managed.  
“He is not here.” Drax observed.  
“No, but he was. Look” Gamora’s voice grabbed everyone’s attention as they turned to follow her gaze. She had already made her way over to the toppled chair and bloodstained walkway, crouching down in front of something that Peter could only identify as a shattered tablet as he approached the woman’s side.  
“What would he need this for?” He asked, sitting down on the curb and reaching to touch the cracked glass. If Rocket had been here, which, judging by just how destructive the raccoon’s condition had proved to be in the past, was a pretty safe bet, he had utterly demolished the device, obviously hoping to get rid of all evidence of his access to Nova’s files.  
Which is why he was rather surprised when the device reacted to Peter’s touch, flickering on weakly and emitting a faint light into the otherwise darkened street. “What is this?” He asked curiously, squinting to read what was projected underneath the cracks in the glass. “Halfworld? What is that?”  
“And why would he risk being caught by Nova to find it?” Gamora added, carefully using the tip of her finger to scroll through the feed.  
“I am Groot.” The booming voice made Peter flinch as the Flora Colossus appeared behind him, staring at the flickering screen with an almost shocked expression.  
“You know what this place is?”  
Groot hadn’t even begun his trademark answer before the sound of Gamora’s breath hitching in her throat made them both freeze. “He was made there.” She said, hardly a whisper, shoving the device into Peter’s hands.  
“What, and he’s going back there? Why?” Quill asked incredulously, trying to read as much information about ‘Subject 89P13’ as he could manage with the shattered screen.  
“To fix this.”  
Drax frowned, staring at the woman in confusion. “Fix what, exactly?” He asked, although he was a bit taken aback by how quickly her head snapped up towards him.  
“Rocket said he was going to ‘fix this.’ He’s going back to this Halfworld place to fix himself.” She explained in a panicked voice. Something that honestly put Peter on edge more than anything to see the woman in such distress.  
“But why on his own?” Drax said, furrowing his large brow in an almost offended manner. “Does he not trust us to aid him in this dangerous mission?”  
Gamora only shook her head, staring at the shattered tablet as if it held all of the answers. “Not us. Himself.  
…  
Rocket curled up more on himself when another agonizing shock racked his body, holding his arms tighter to his chest as his claws threatened to tear his own skin apart, although he determined that that would have been a better option than allowing his new ‘instincts’ to let his tear up the arm of the man pressed up against his shoulder.  
He knew he had the ability to steal a ship and pilot himself to Krei’s coordinates himself, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done it countless times before. But the involuntary twitching of his limbs told him that maybe being at the controls of a metal death trap wasn’t the best idea.  
So, with much hesitation, Rocket had boarded himself upon a commercial ship, leaping on the one that would hopefully take him the furthest, or at least to the right planet. Although Halfworld, as he remembered, had been utterly barren the last he remembered.  
The main ship lurched as it stopped once again, allowing another mob of aliens to board, much to Rocket’s disgust. He had never been one for ‘people.’ His social life had consisted of Groot for as long as he could remember, at least up until the Guardians were formed, but even then he still kept mostly to himself. He wasn’t fond of the noisy conversations, the pointless body contact or even just the feeling of having someone so close to him.  
He didn’t particularly think himself as claustrophobic seeing as he managed to hold his own in a crowded bar or even the bustling streets of Knowhere where not an inch of ground had yet to be trampled by the footfalls of the planet’s residents. But the raccoon did prefer to have his space in the silence of his own ship than the jostling and muttering people in the crowded bus he now sat in, squished between the tattooed bare arm of a rather large man and the striking coolness of a metallic wall.  
Although he would have preferred this position to the one he was soon to take as one of the newly boarded passengers searched the bustling car for a seat of his own, stopping directly in front of the twitchy raccoon.  
Rocket ignored the man entirely, instead staring back at the arm he was pressed against, trying to make out what the red and brown tattoo was supposed to be.  
“Ahem.” The standing one sounded, widening his stance as the ship took off again, jostling the passengers ever so slightly.  
Rocket only raised a furred brow, looking the man up and down before returning his gaze to the puzzling tattoo. “What do you want, a cookie?”  
He didn’t receive much of a response besides a loud scoff before the cybernetic raccoon felt a sudden pressure gripping at the collar of his already rather torn up jumpsuit. He let out a surprised yelp as the hand clutching his collar yanked hard, sending him to the ground in one swift motion. Forgetting to release his hands from their death grip around his arms, Rocket had not only found himself in an extremely humiliating situation as he fell sprawled out onto the metallic floor of the ship, but also a very painful one.  
He groaned out of both anger and pain as he pushed himself from his stomach and onto his feet, staggering slightly as his headache returned. “Hey!” He shouted, whirling around and pointing accusingly at the man that had somehow wriggled himself into what had been Rocket’s seat. “What the hell is the matter with you? I was sitting there!” He shouted, placing a paw on the wall to stabilize himself as the Ship jostled slightly.  
The man only smiled back triumphantly. “Yeah, why don’t you go cry about it to your buddies down in the cargo hold huh?” The man laughed, crossing his legs and leaning back, pointing to the door at the back of the car that led down to where many of the passengers piled their numerous belongings, including, much to Rocket’s disgust, the pets that were either too loud or too big to be kept onboard with the crowded mob of people.  
Rocket felt another twitch run up his arm, clenching his teeth as his claws dug into the wall that he leaned against while the hand at his side formed into a tight fist. His breathing had become rather harsh as he stared back furiously at the man, wondering if it was his ‘instincts’ telling him he needed to tear the passenger apart or not. But either way, he knew that attacking anyone on the ship wasn’t going to help him in any way in his travels and would instead get him locked up and kicked off at the next planet.  
So, gritting his sharp teeth together and making sure his headache and spasms had faded enough for him to move without kissing the floor again, Rocket turned from the man and made stumbled to the opposite end of the ship, taking his place at the base of another booth. It was humiliating finding himself sitting on the floor like some obedient pet, but the raccoon really could only see the situation going in two directions. One being that he sucked it up and sat on the hard ground like the man had expected him to, or let his rage get the best of him and tear him a new one.  
Of course, had the circumstance been any different. Had he still had control over his own actions, the latter would be his first option, no questions asked. But seeing as though that was most certainly not the case and the second, more favorable, option would most likely leave him with a charge of murder, he instead set his chin down on his knees, wrapping both his tail and arms around his body as another spasm made him cringe.  
They were getting worse. He had yet to fall into another episode like he had faced on the Milano, but the cloudiness of his vision and the throbbing in his head had only grown stronger as he tried to keep control of his twitching limbs and seizing chest.  
Of course the solution to his problem didn’t seem much better of an option.  
Throughout his life out of the hellhole, Rocket had make keeping Halfworld and everything included with it in the back of his mind. The pain still haunted him in the form of nightmares, leaving the raccoon refusing to sleep entirely as he instead turned to his weaponry and blueprints as a distraction from sleep and memories.  
And his methods had worked pretty well in his mind as he and Groot began their Bounty hunting career. Focusing on the rewards and prison escapes rather than that damned planet and those white coats. He had made it months with Groot by his side before the tree man decided that he needed to know more of his partner’s troublesome past after having witnessed the raccoon in a violent panic attack after waking up in a hospital, surrounded by white-coats and lying flat on an examination table. He had never been one to be affected by sedatives, thanks to his ‘enhancements.’  
Groot had helped his condition immensely, listening to Rocket’s drunken rants or taking to stroking the ringtail’s fur in silence when he awoke panting and shaking from another nightmare. And that was how it was for those few years. Him and Groot against the world and his secret finally off his chest and carefully guarded by the only other being he trusted.  
And then, of course, everything had to go awry.  
He was grateful for the Guardians, in fact, the day they had made the group official and he had been given his own space aboard the ship, Rocket found himself happier than he had ever been. To not only have been given an official ‘home’ rather than running about the streets with a walking tree for shelter, but a family. Not that he would ever admit to the others that that was how he saw them. He had a reputation to keep.  
Although it seems as though that wasn’t really a problem anymore seeing as though he was sitting on the cold floor of a commercial ship on the way to his personal hell after shooting the arm off of his best friend. He wondered just what the Guardians were thinking now, probably believing he had allowed the animal inside to finally break free… then again, isn’t that what had happened.  
Krei’s words still sounded clear in his head, even through the pounding of his brain against his skull and the dull ringing that made his ears twitch.  
He was created to destroy, to be some sort of living weapon that no one, not even he, could control. He had thought that out of everyone aboard the Milano, Gamora would have been the one to understand his condition, at least to know that something was wrong with the only other cybernetically enhanced being in the group. And yet, it was her that had knocked him out, her who had wanted him off of the ship entirely. The cloudiness of his mind may have been distracting, but that didn’t keep his enhanced hearing from picking up the conversation the others had held during his absence.  
He had lost so much in those moments of his last episode that it actually pained him just sitting there on the ship, leaning his head back against the seat behind him and closing his eyes tightly. He had gained a family in the Guardians, and that was not something he was about to give up.  
He had been given the chance to have someone need him, to depend on him, and in turn was able to put his faith in someone other than himself, something that he did not take for granted, no matter how much he tried to act like it. And in one fell swoop, he had lost it. Had lost their trust.  
Which was exactly why he was on this damned ship. He had reminded himself of this fact on more than one occasion since ending the call with Krei. This was the only way to get his life back in order, to gain control once again, to shove that monster he was designed to be back in to the far corners of his mind.  
He could only hope that he was able to get himself out of this trap he knew he was walking into.


	7. Chapter 7

“So let me get this straight.” Peter said, allowing his head to fall into the palm of his hand, massaging his temple with his thumb. “Rocket’s going to this ‘Halfworld’ place to…” He used his free hand to gesture for someone to continue his thought.  
“To ‘fix’ himself.” Gamora finished candidly, crossing her arms and turning back to the controls of the Milano. The remaining four Guardians had come back after discovering Rocket’s plan, making sure to take the shattered tablet with them, although the light had flickered out already.  
“He is going to kill himself.” Drax put in, his voice full of resentment.  
“What, you don’t think he has a plan?” Peter asked, pulling his hand down far enough so that he could make eye contact with the larger man. Rocket had to have a plan, right? This was Rocket they were talking about, he always had a plan, always had a way out. Hell, the ringtail never stopped bragging about the fact that he had been an escapee of what was now twenty-three prisons.   
He had to have a way out.  
“I believe he is desperate.” Drax responded, almost shouting as he slammed a hand down on the table. “Desperate enough to get himself killed.”  
“Drax is right.” Gamora agreed, nodding curtly towards the tattooed man and pulling up the files Nova had released to them on Halfworld on their own monitor. “Peter, I don’t think that this is an instance where Rocket has even thought anything through. I don’t think there is much of any plan going to his head at this point.”  
“But he’s not suicidal.” Peter argued. “I mean he-“  
“He isn’t Rocket anymore, Peter. At least not all of him.” Gamora interrupted. “You saw what he did to Groot, to you.” She said, gesturing both to the quite nervous looking tree hovering over the controls of the Milano and back to Peter’s stitched up arm.  
“I am Groot.” The Flora Colossus said solemnly, gesturing to the screen that continued to scroll through Halfworld data, most of which Peter had already elected to ignore.  
Peter didn’t know much about the raccoon’s past, and to be honest, he didn’t think he wanted to. It had been made obvious to the Guardians back on Knowhere that Rocket’s secretive past held nothing but pain and suffering, a great amount of his life had been spent believing he was nothing but a mistake created in that damned lab. And more often than not, Peter wondered if Rocket still believed that.  
Seeing the raccoon’s upper lip curl into a snarl when someone on the street points at ‘that thing’ or the way he tenses when some asshole at a bar decides to mistakenly wrench the ‘little rat’ from his stool and onto the floor, the Guardians were quick to catch on to what set their smallest comrade off. In fact, they had all become rather protective of the ring-tailed Guardian, much to Rocket’s disapproval. Always complaining that he was fully capable of handling whichever offender had dared to pull at his sensitive tail.  
No one had really thought to question Rocket’s past, deciding unanimously that he would open up to them if he felt the need to. And to their dismay, he had. In small ways, of course, walking about the Milano with his trademark shirt missing from his torso, leaving his implants and scars out in the open, or allowing the taller teammates to stroke his fur every once and a while. Rocket wasn’t the open book type and was certainly hesitant still about letting his guard down completely with the others. But the others certainly noticed when he did, and practically relished in the feeling of finding that he was only finding that he could trust them that much more.  
But never had Peter thought that the secrets still held tightly by the raccoon were so painful as what was projected on his holoscreen.  
Just seeing the first blurred video stream of a rather familiar looking ringtail on an examination table, leather straps restraining his tensed limbs and wires jutting out of its back made Peter nauseas. Even Gamora, the only other member of his crew to have endured the physical pain of cybernetic modification, had turned away from the screen uneasily at the sight of an incredibly young looking Rocket being put under such experiments.  
This left only Drax and the unmoving tree man staring back at the footage, both seeming almost unfazed by the information put before them. Of course, Peter doubted he was going off on a limb by saying that Groot had already been made aware of the situation his smaller counterpart had put himself in seeing as though the two had been together far longer than any of the others had ever known him. It was almost discomforting even seeing the two apart for too long, as Rocket was almost always found balancing precariously on Groot’s shoulder if not scrambling up his side.  
“I don’t understand though.” Drax voiced, pointing at the screen in confusion. “Why had our friend taken off to this facility if it is shut down? Is he planning on performing the modifications himself?” He asked.  
“Shut down?” Peter looked up from the table losing his count of how many dust particles had gathered on its surface. Drax only responded with a nod before glaring back at the screen as though the answers to his problems would project themselves due to his intimidating glare. “No, that doesn’t make any sense, why would he just go there without anyone to ‘fix’ him in the first place? I mean, Rocket may not be completely himself right now, but he’s not senseless. He wouldn’t go back there just for the nostalgia of it all.”  
“I am Groot.” The tree grumbled in a low voice, nodding in agreement before letting his newly reformed arm to drop in front of Drax, pointing with a spindly finger towards the far corner of the tablet, his frown deepening and his solemn face converting into what Peter could only describe as furious.  
“Who is he?” Gamora asked, her curiosity taking getting the best of her as she peered over Drax’s tattoo covered arm and towards the projection. Peter stood from his seat, following the woman’s gaze, trying his best to ignore the other photos and rather gruesome notes taken on Subject 89P13.  
It bothered Peter to think that that was where Rocket’s official title had originated from and just how often a criminal who had been arrested twenty-three times now had to hear that name. He would have to talk to Dey about getting that changed.  
“I am Groot.” The voice snapped Quill from his thoughts as he switched his lingering gaze from the sequence of numbers and letters to the picture that the now almost violent sounding Flora Colossus was still pointing to.  
Reaching over Drax’s shoulder, Gamora tapped the screen lightly, practically holding her breath entirely as the tablet’s surface lit up in front of them, bathing them all in a flash of light as a new file began loading. “Doctor Krei.” She murmured lowly, furrowing her brow before continuing to read the writing scrawled below the man’s photo.  
“Why are there notes on Rocket in here?” Peter asked almost hesitantly, pointing to a lower paragraph with the dreaded 89P13 typed in on more than one occasion. In fact, the title came up so unnervingly often in the man’s file that Peter almost began to think that- “Oh my god.”  
Three heads turned to face him as Peter practically wrenched the tablet from Drax’s grasp, pulling the holoscreen closer to himself as he began quickly scanning the rest of the page. Although his readings had already confirmed his anxiety ridden suspicions, Peter didn’t truly understand Groot’s hardened glare until he scrolled to find the rather disfigured body of a newly ‘built’ cybernetic life form.  
Quill felt like hurling as the image of the incredibly young and rather bloodied Rocket burned itself in his mind. He almost dropped the holoscreen entirely as he went to hand it back to Drax so they could see for themselves.  
The others had been wrong about Rocket. He did have a plan. A very well thought out, sturdy, and self-destructive plan to get himself recaptured that would no doubt, go off without a hitch. Now all that was left was for Peter to pray that the raccoon’s plan of escape was just as successful.  
…  
Rocket was shaken out of his dozing state when the ship began to jolt as they entered the atmosphere of yet another planet. He rubbed his eyes furiously with his fists and looked up to glance at the red letters flickering across the screen above the passengers, blinking bleary eyed as he realized he had reached his destination.  
He hadn’t remembered falling asleep or for how long he had managed to stay that way on the floor of the bustling bus. But judging by how heavy his eyelids felt as he let his head fall against the wall again, it most certainly was not long enough.  
Then again, the last thing he needed at this point in his mission was to miss his stop entirely due to his sudden case of exhaustion. Flexing his fingers, the raccoon was relieved to find that he had gained control of the majority of his muscles again aside from the numbness lingering in the joints and the occasional spasm in his wrists.  
A large amount of passengers, including the man who had made the mistake of stealing Rocket’s seat had already begun gathering their belongings, setting their carry-ons in their laps as they stared out the thick, tinted windows towards the planet’s surface. Rocket himself had felt almost naked having left his blaster on the Milano.  
It was something that had become almost accustomed to him, carrying the enormous weapon strapped on his back as though it were an ordinary article of clothing. Of course, it had always been more of a precautionary thing in the grand scheme of things. He had his small grenades and other concealable weapons either strapped to his belt or tucked in the pockets of his jumpsuit for when he found himself in the occasional bar fight or during one of his smaller bounties.  
The larger gun he had constantly strapped on him was there almost purely for show. Of course, he preferred his larger weapons when in battle, but that hardly seemed necessary when simply walking through the streets of Xandar. However, it did make him feel stronger, like he could still prove that he was more than some silly animal with a bodyguard.  
So, seeing as though the thing was almost as large as the raccoon carrying it, Rocket had almost stopped wearing it entirely when in quarters with the other Guardians. Unfortunately, this meant that when Rocket had made his mad dash for the exit after having almost blasted his closest friend into nothing but smoking splinters, he had left unarmed.  
Leaning back against the metallic wall again, he felt at his pockets anxiously, counting each round grenade and even tapping the holster of his smaller ray gun experimentally, as though his means of defense would suddenly disappear entirely if he didn’t. Although, he found that even after re-counting the four bombs in the fabric of his trousers several times and turning the safety of his pistol off and on, it had done little to calm his nerves.  
It didn’t take long for the ship to dock and Rocket was one of the first ones to dart off of the crowded bus, sighing with relief once he had found an area out of the way from the stampeding aliens that boarded and unboarded the ship. He frowned and bit his lip to keep from cursing at the man who had so rudely taken his seat as he made his way by the raccoon, smiling in triumph as he walked by. It took all of Rocket’s strength not to use one of his four grenades against the guy, but he knew that if he wanted to ensure his mission’s safety, the last thing he needed was to waste a good bomb on a jackass in a ship station.  
Watching begrudgingly as the man walked out of sight, Rocket finally pushed himself from his hiding spot and into the crowd, wishing that he had Groot or one of the other Guardians to climb upon to keep his tail from being trampled. He shook his head of the thought, focusing on the stairs that led to the open city. It was dark outside and already pouring steadily, much to Rocket’s discouragement.  
He stared longingly towards a public transportation station, with vehicles that would take him near his destination in less than half an hour while still dry and sheltered from the bone chilling rain, but in the end, decided against it.  
As much as he knew he needed to meet Krei and get his systems back online, there was also a horrible sense of dread sitting heavily in the pit of his stomach, making him want nothing more than to just lay down and pretend like he had nothing better to do. Unfortunately, the image of Groot’s heartbroken face as he stared back towards Rocket, his arm nothing but splinters and his eyes full of betrayal that had been etched into his mind forced the raccoon to keep standing.  
He growled in frustration before turning and walking into the cold air, flinching when the first drops of rain hit him, soaking into his fur and sending chills up his spine. And as he began his long trek towards his target, he began to wonder if the next few hours he earned in the silence of his own thoughts were truly worth passing up the bus that had just opened its doors to the public.  
He shook his head, letting some of the water that had already built up in his fur to shake themselves away. Wrapping his arms tightly around himself, Rocket trudged on bitterly past the bus, his footfalls becoming heavier with each step. He didn’t need a GPS to lead him on this planet, although he hadn’t dared visit in years. He knew exactly where he was going.  
The raccoon bit his tongue angrily at the thought. He felt it the moment the ship had entered the atmosphere, as though there were some faint signal from the planet’s surface pulling at him to return to the place he had first awoken as a sentient being. Not that the ‘pulling’ helped in easing his headache, which had decided that now that the secluded creature was in the freezing rain, it was a good time to make it feel as though his brain were about to crack his skull entirely from the inside.  
Despite the fact that his footsteps were taken as slowly as the raccoon could muster as dread and fear began to build up further inside him, Rocket was terrified to find that those hours in the rain had lapsed far too quickly for his taste.  
He practically collapsed at the sight of the building. It seemed as though the government had yet to turn the old structure into anything else of use, leaving the concrete walls to darken with age and neglect while the windows lining the building were either covered in dirt and dust, or broken entirely.  
Rocket shivered, although he couldn’t tell if it were the cold or the pure fear that bubbled up inside him, making his chest heave heavily as he gasped for air. His hands were shaking furiously now as Rocket clung to himself tighter, dragging himself slowly towards the building and pushing the metal gate open, cringing as it creaked loudly.  
The doors themselves were already open and the lights in most of the entryway had already been lit, meaning that somebody was already here.  
“Ah, 89P13. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up for out little meeting.” Rocket whirled around, frantically reaching for his small pistol and holding it up in his shaky hands. He was drenched from head to toe and the cold that had seeped through his fur had him frozen stiff as his ears and tail lay flat from the new weight they carried. Or at least that was what he told himself as he failed to make his muscles move an inch while Krei made his way toward the wide-eyed raccoon.  
“Now.” The man began as he stopped at the creature’s side, leaning down to pull away the gun with one hand and began stroking Rocket’s wet fur with the other. Rocket stiffened under the pressure of the hand, suddenly wishing that he had worked harder in finding a different plan. To be home.  
“Shall we begin?”


	8. Chapter 8

Peter gritted his teeth as his fingers tapped insistently at the metal frame of his bed. The location of the Halfworld facility was easy enough to get, but the trip itself would take hours at least. This wouldn’t have seemed as much of a problem had Rocket himself not gotten such a head start, most likely already well on his way to the far off planet if not already there.  
Given the amount of time that the remaining four Guardians had to get there themselves, Peter was afraid that they would arrive too late.  
Not one hour into the raccoon hunt was Peter practically dragged from his spot at the controls, where he had been sitting white knuckled and practically shaking with worry and fury as panicked thoughts raced through his mind. It had taken a while of shouting and both Groot and Gamora teaming up to drag the Starlord to his private quarters before Peter finally gave into their idea of taking shifts. After all, the captain of the Milano was no good to his friend if he were practically collapsing from exhaustion as he was back on deck.  
Yet, now he lay on his back atop his covers, staring at his ceiling and frowning as though it had somehow offended him, completely unable to even close his eyes, let alone sleep. The pictures and video feed of the uncomfortably young and bloodied Rocket were still vivid in his mind, as though he were still staring down at that damned tablet, the phrase ‘89P13’ still sending shivers down his spine as he thought of the time the raccoon had spent in those labs.  
Peter pursed his lips and closed his eyes tightly as though it would somehow rid him of the images that danced tauntingly in his vision, rubbing his face with his hands for good measure.  
When Rocket had said he hadn’t had a long life span, Peter had believed that it was no more than a jest at his physical appearance. After all, Rocket could always be depended on to make jokes at the worst of times. But after looking at the files they had managed to snatch from Nova, he found evidence of just how much of his life Rocket had actually spent being torn apart and put back together.  
He was jolted from his troubled thoughts when there was a fait knock at his door. “Peter?” Gamora called softly, most likely hoping the man had been asleep by now. Although he was sure she knew he hadn’t slept a wink.  
Removing his hands from his face and pushing them up to pull the hair from his forehead, he turned to face the wall. “Yeah.” He grunted, opening his eyes when the metal door was pushed open slowly, the light of the hallway bathing his room in a bright glow.  
He squinted slightly as Gamora walked into the room, her green lips pursed tightly and eyes darting almost nervously towards Peter. Sensing that the woman had not come simply to remind him of their position still hours away from where Rocket was most likely already being tortured by his ‘creator,’ the man sat up on his bed, gesturing with a tilt of the head for the ex-assassin to sit down.  
Nodding once in affirmation, the woman made her way to the bed, sighing almost in exasperation as the mattress sunk under her weight.  
Both sat in silence for a few quiet moments, neither daring to say a word about why Gamora had decided to enter his quarters or why the hilt of one of her smaller, usually concealed knives, was already clutched tightly in one hand while she traced the edge of the silver blade with the other, almost as though transfixed entirely by the gleaming of the steel.  
“He’s going to be okay, right?” Peter was almost taken aback by the voice beside him as he turned to face Gamora who was still refusing to look up from the blade of her knife.  
Hearing the single sentence uttered by the woman who he had first met in a full out brawl over an infinity stone absolutely shocked him. He knew she had considered the team as her friends, even family now that she was no longer tied down by Thanos’ control. But due to the fact that the woman had once been a master assassin, she hadn’t been one for showing more emotion than was absolutely necessary.  
Sitting up slightly and taking a moment to compose himself, Peter looked toward Gamora “I don’t know.” He said in all honestly, slumping against the wall so that he was now directly beside her as she sat stiffly at the edge of the mattress.  
“I found more information on Rocket within the Halfworld files.” She stated plainly.  
Peter shifted uncomfortably beside her. “Whatever happened to ‘taking shifts’?” He asked halfheartedly, nudging her slightly.  
The corners of her lips curled ever so slightly upwards as her gaze darted slightly from her blade and towards the man sitting beside her. “That was mainly to keep you from snapping the controls from the panel entirely.” She answered.  
Peter smiled as Gamora’s figure began to relax visibly. Unfortunately, despite how much the thought made him cringe, he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly had been in those files. “What did you find?” He asked cautiously, still not entirely sure if he wanted to know any more about Rocket’s past than he had already learned within the last few hours.  
Gamora remained silent for a few moments, her back stiffening slightly at the question as she began to shift uncomfortably on the mattress. Peter didn’t make to pry, simply looking toward her expectantly as she swallowed hard and pocketed the dagger before finally turning to face him.  
“I had thought that the reasoning for Rocket’s strange and animalistic behavior was his cybernetics going offline during the large electrical shock he had received back on Knowhere.” She began, turning her body so that her knees were tucked up tightly beside her.  
Peter frowned slightly, thinking back to the point in time in particular. The amount of electrical energy sent through his system had been originally meant to take down a woman twice his size and had endured it for far longer than Gamora herself had. Meeting her eyes again, he nodded slightly in understanding. “Is it not?” He asked, slightly confused by her explanation. The timeframes lined up perfectly between the events of Rocket being shot and his episodes.  
Gamora pursed her dark lips together into a fine line before shaking her head slightly. “The attack affected him, but I do not believe that they shut off his cybernetic mental processing.” She managed, knitting her brows together as her gaze lowered back to her hands, which were now held tightly together as there was no longer a knife in her palms to keep them busy.  
Peter cocked his head to the side and pulled himself into more of a sitting position so that his gaze was level with Gamora’s. “What do you mean?” He questioned, fidgeting uncomfortably just thinking about what had gotten the woman so worked up.  
Her wavering gaze finally rose from her hands and directly into Peter’s eyes. “I think they were turned back on.”  
…  
Gamora hadn’t taken a moment after Rocket’s disappearance to tend to her own needs. And now that she sat back at the cockpit, tablet locked firmly in her hands, she began to wish that she had remembered to prepare herself a lunch at least as her stomach growled in discomfort. However, despite the hunger slowly eating away at her insides (curse her fast metabolism) and the exhaustion that made her vision go blurry for moments at a time, she couldn’t seem to force herself to get the missing raccoon off of her mind.  
Speaking with Peter had eased her nerves slightly, knowing that the Starlord would do everything in his power to make sure that Rocket wasn’t about to succeed in his suicide mission, as would everyone else on board the Milano. But she had yet to shake the horrible sense of dread that filled her mind with horrific thoughts of what could happen were the remaining four Guardians unable to reach him in time.  
In fact, the longer she sat there, staring blankly at the holoscreen, Halfworld data scrolling steadily across the screen, the more nervous Gamora became, wondering what and who exactly they would find once they reached that broken down building.  
Not that she showed it of course.  
She clenched her teeth with frustration. She had never been one for showing emotions, usually concealing them or simply not feeling them at all in certain situations, and for that, she cursed Thanos. He who had tortured her were she to cry or raise her voice, he who took away everything from her. As much pride as the woman took in her composure, the more time she spent among her family, the more she chided herself for not being able to allow herself to simply emote without forced concentration on the matter.  
And, of course, the feelings that bubbled up inside her churning stomach as her mind racked itself for answers of what to do at this point in time, only became worse as she realized just what the emotion trying to force its way through was. Guilt.  
She blamed herself for everything that had transpired between Knowhere and Rocket’s escape. And she knew there was good reason for it too. The only reason Rocket had been forced under the intense effects of the device was because the attackers had been tracking her, only hitting the raccoon by chance as he had tackled her down and out of the way. He had saved her, and was now suffering the price.  
She frowned further as she reached the end of the file projected on the dimly lit screen and tapped it to open another, hoping that rereading Rocket’s information, or 89P13 as it was stated in the files, would somehow get them to Halfworld faster.  
“You should rest.” Gamora had to suppress the urge to reach for her concealed weapon as Drax’s booming voice shocked her from her thoughts. He made his way to the seat beside her and sat down, his immense weight making the chair creak loudly as he situated himself. She had hardly had time to react before Drax had promptly reach across the small table space, grabbing the tablet from her hands and replacing it with a plate of sandwiches.  
“You will be no good to our friend without your strength.” He stated plainly, setting the device to the side and out of Gamora’s reach.  
The woman glared in frustration at the tattooed man. “I’m not sure I was much good to him with it either.” She said truthfully, but reaching for one of the sandwiches nonetheless as her stomach growled once again loudly.  
Drax frowned, but did not say anything, simply leaning forward slightly in his seat and looking at her expectantly.  
“I should have listened to him.” The words had barely left her mouth before the full force of the guilt hit her once again. “None of this would have happened had we stayed away from Knowhere like he had said.”  
Drax only nodded, placing a large hand on her shoulder awkwardly, his fingers shifting uncomfortably against the bare skin of her neck as he failed horribly to try and comfort the woman. “We all had a say in the matter. Rocket had been the only one truly opposed to our acceptance of the mission.” He reminded her gently, moving his hand from her shoulder and to a longer strand of hair that had been woven into a thin braid, decorated with a few silver beads.  
“May I?” He asked almost tentatively, letting a few pieces of pink and black hair to fall through his fingers.  
Seeing as though she had been recently prohibited from looking through the Halfworld data for the third time that night, Gamora decided to comply, spinning so that she sat sideways in her chair and closed her eyes as Drax’s large yet surprisingly gentle fingers began to softly comb through her hair.  
They stayed like that for a while, sitting calmly in the silence as Drax began to methodically pull back strands of the woman’s long hair, weaving it almost expertly into an elegant braid that fell loosely over her right shoulder when he was finished. Gamora couldn’t help but wonder exactly where the destroyer had learned to weave one’s hair so well.  
As though reading her mind, Drax shifted back in his seat, looking at his work contently. “I have not had the pleasure of braiding one’s hair since my daughter Kamaria.” He said plainly, his eyes glazing over with wetness almost instantly after saying her name. “Thank you.”  
Gamora opened her mouth to respond when a faint beeping made her pause in her thoughts. Drax’s head snapped towards the controls as they were alerted by their auto piloting system that their planet of interest was at last within atmospheric distance.  
The ship began to shake slightly as the Milano neared the surface and both Peter and Groot had left their respectful living spaces to join the others at the controls. “We have coordinates?” Peter asked instantly after entering the room, latching himself into the orange leather seat and turning off the auto pilot, taking the controls into his own hands.  
Gamora nodded, she had practically memorized them at this point seeing as though the information had been all she had been able to focus on within the past few hours. Giving Drax one last look of gratitude and using his bare shoulder to push herself into a standing position, she took the copilot’s position, imputing the coordinates that had practically been engraved in her mind right next to the term ‘89P13.’  
“Please don’t be too late.”  
…  
Rocket had yet to stop shivering as he stood in the doorway of an uncomfortably familiar room, swaying weakly from side to side as his knees threatened to buckle entirely from beneath him. Despite the fact that the facility was now covered from floor to ceiling with dust that turned the white walls grey and the now dimly lit hallways were no longer bustling with scientists and test subjects, there was no doubt in the raccoon’s mind that this was the same place.  
The same place he had been created in and the very place he had always hoped never to see again. A shudder ran up his spine as he spotted the dreaded metal table in the center of it all. He could swear that he could still hear the pleading voices of countless subjects strapped to the cold table as they screamed in human and animalistic sounds alike.  
Rocket felt his mouth grow dry as he stared transfixed at the thing, only allowing his eyes to dart from the thing when he spotted the wires and scalpels set up strategically on a tray beside the metal cuffs.  
“Ah, memories.” Rocket nearly leapt out of his skin when Krei stepped in behind him, pulling the door closed as the lights in the white room became even brighter. The raccoon forced down a hiss of pain as his head pounded in retaliation to the newly intensified light.  
He frowned at the closed door, suddenly feeling significantly more claustrophobic as he found himself trapped in an even more secluded space with the man.  
Krei only raised a brow, pulling further on the door handle as if to further his point that Rocket was no longer in control of the situation. “If I am going to be working with your cybernetics, the last thing we need is for a non-sentient 89P13 running rampant through the hallways were you to lose awareness of the situation.” He explained, although Rocket was full aware that it was almost completely untrue.  
“Don’t call me that.” Rocket managed, somewhat proud of himself that his voice had remained level despite the fact that his body had only began to twitch and spasm once again.  
The man only paused slightly before making his way towards the operation table and patting it as though offering the raccoon a comfortable seat. “Oh? And what would you like me to call you then? That new name you gave yourself, Rocket, was it?” Rocket only looked up at him, slightly surprised by how much the man had known about his life after the facility had been shut down.  
“As I have mentioned before.” Krei continued, pulling on a pair of latex gloves from seemingly out of nowhere. “I have heard of you and your team fighting the Accuser himself. You seemed to have created quite the life for yourself Rocket.”  
The Raccoon cringed upon hearing his name roll off the man’s tongue so unnaturally, deciding that he may have preferred his subject name over the one he had given himself within his first year out of the facility. He didn’t say a word however as his jaw had practically locked itself in its position.  
Realizing that the only thing left was for him to be placed atop the table, Rocket’s entire body froze. He couldn’t do this, there had to be another way out. Panicked thoughts and memories full of screaming and writhing and pain… so much pain, flashed before his eyes as he stumbled back away from the wires and scalpels and restraints.  
“Get on the table Rocket.”  
He reached up and pulled vigorously at his ears as the painful screams and pleading filled his head, drowning out everything else entirely. “No!” He cried frantically when a strong hand wrapped itself around his sensitive tail and another around the base of his neck, lifting him in the air by the scruff. “Stop! I can’t.” He shouted, writhing in Krei’s tight grip before being unceremoniously dropped onto the strikingly cold surface of the table, landing on all fours.  
He didn’t even have time to try and leap off before the hands were on him again, ceasing his struggling as tears welled up in his eyes. “Please.”  
“But you won’t be fixed.”  
Rocket creased in his struggling, still clasping to the hands tightly as he struggled uncomfortably in the man’s grip. “But…” He began. There had to be another way, something else he could do to fix himself.  
“You’ll turn into a monster again.”  
He words hit the raccoon like a punch to the gut as he let himself go slack in Krei’s hands, curling his tail around himself instinctively.  
Deciding his subject wasn’t going anywhere as he let the words sink in, Krei gently lay the creature down on the table, reaching to grab the thing’s arms and pulling them away from where they were clutching frantically at the furred chest.  
The mechanic click of the first cuff closing around his left wrist sounded almost deafeningly loud as Rocket’s eyes clenched themselves shut, biting his lip when a whimper escaped his lips as he felt his other shaking arm being pulled away from his body and locked in another restraint.  
He didn’t fight however, knowing full well that this was his only chance. Think of Groot. He reminded himself, cringing again when his left ankle was strapped into place. Tears were soaking the fur around his eyes now. You almost killed him, you almost killed Peter! The right foot.  
His eyes snapped open when he felt the hands move from the restraints and to his heaving chest, fumbling at the buckles that held his tattered suit together. He stared in almost a daze like state as the top of his jumpsuit was stripped off entirely, his still reddened and scarred skin and metallic implants lying completely exposed.  
Rocket didn’t even look towards Krei’s direction, knowing full well that he was grinning from ear to ear as he marveled at his own work. Another whimper escaped him when he saw the large wire being lifted from the tray and pulled closer to his chest. He grunted and arched his back slightly as the thing was locked into its position, prongs reaching even further into his implants. This procedure was repeated four times until the majority of the cybernetics on his chest were attached to the machine by multicolored wires.  
“You might want to close your eyes now.” Krei’s said and Rocket felt his breathing pick up immensely as his heartbeat began to race. Krei was hovering only inches above him now, a scalpel gripped lightly in his hand. Rocket’s eyes snapped shut obediently.  
“Welcome home 89P13.”


	9. Chapter 9

Groot hadn’t moved an inch since they had entered the planet’s atmospheric barrier, practically rooting himself to the floor as he stared intently out the window. The planet itself was easy enough to find, despite the fact that it was what Rocket would call backwater. It didn’t differ much from the planet that they had first lost Rocket at in terms of technology and transportation.  
Peter was certainly happy to find that due to this fact, they weren’t about to be pulled over for passports or regulation check as they usually did in places such as Xandar with larger cites with a higher attack rate.  
The only problem now was actually finding the damned facility.  
Gamora had put the coordinates into the Milano’s navigation system the moment Quill had taken the ship off of auto pilot. But due to the planet’s lack in technological advancements, the signal had weakened immensely to the point that the guardians were forced to simply rely on the small blips from the radar that they managed to pick up as they headed in the ‘general area’ of the Halfworld facility.  
Groot shifted slightly as Peter made to duck under the heavy clouds that had begun to take form around them as they flew above buildings and citizens alike. Groot frowned when his view was blocked by the dark mist of yet another cloud as Peter continued to lower the ship, trying to get a view from above of the facility. Not that any of them actually knew what it looked like in the first place.  
“Come on!” Peter growled angrily, pounding at the flickering monitor with his fist as the navigation systems began to fail once again. “Dammit! I can’t keep a signal.” He declared, giving the machine one last pound before going back to gripping the controls tightly and staring begrudgingly out the window.  
“What are we supposed to do without navigation?” Drax asked angrily, taking the knife he had been running a dirtied cloth over and shoving it into its sheath around his calf.   
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Peter practically shouted, releasing the controls with one hand and waving it above his head furiously as though the motion would somehow prove is point. “And it’s not like these rainclouds are making things any easier. For all we know with the systems glitching out on us, we could be on the wrong side of the planet entirely while Rocket’s with that creep.”  
Groot frowned further, turning away from the clouded glass and towards where the captain was clutching the controls with a vice grip. “I am Groot.” He said softly, shuffling slightly when the other three occupants of the Milano looked up towards him with slightly shocked expressions.  
Groot had not said a word for the good part of the trip, leaving the others, while lost in their frantic thoughts to almost forget that the flora colossus was even still there.  
Gamora, being the first to recover, made her way over to the tree man in question, joining him at the window and glancing out of the glass as though the clouds would somehow clear themselves for them. “We will find him.” She assured him, holding her hands together awkwardly.  
She had never been one for comfort, let alone giving it, being an assassin at the beckon call of the mad Titan Thanos himself. And Groot was aware of that. Which was why it meant that much more coming from the woman as she stared blankly out the window, standing just close enough to the tree so that the skin of her arm barely brushed against his rough bark.  
Groot only smiled halfheartedly back at her, joining her in trying to will away the dark cloud cover again.  
“Oh my- I’m getting something!” Peter practically shouted, pointing frantically towards the monitor, the blip that represented their destination reappearing on the screen. “We’re close guys, I’m going to try heading lower.” He declared, aiming the Milano downward, biting his lower lip, just praying that he wouldn’t hit a building on the way. “Hang in here buddy.”  
…  
Rocket was jolted awake with a start as a sharp pain in his chest made his back arch off of the table. Wait, table?  
The raccoon’s eyes snapped open as he tugged experimentally on his wrists, only to find that they were restrained by metal cuffs. He felt his heartbeat begin to pick up as he looked around the room frantically trying to remember why he was here. Had he been captured? Was this just another dream?  
Wires protruded from his reddened and scarred chest and the amount of blood that stained his fur made him nauseous. Stomach lurching with horror and head throbbing in pain, Rocket let his eyes flutter closed again, turning his head to let it rest on the table’s cool surface.  
He just wanted to go back to sleep, wishing that when he next woke, he would be back home, curled up on Groot’s shoulder, or passed out over one of his new guns. But the sweet release of unconsciousness never came. And judging by the pain that only grew as the numbness of sleep wore away, Rocket began to fear that it never would.  
Finding his limbs were growing rather restless while being tethered down for who knows how long, Rocket began to shift uncomfortably, tugging at the cuffs and flexing his fingers and toes.  
“Ah, you’re awake.”  
Rocket flinched in shock and strained to turn towards the voice as the doctor walked into his line of vision. He frowned as the man took to standing beside the table, reaching with a gloved hand to yank another one of the plugs from his chest implants, sending another jolt of pain through the raccoon’s small body.  
Clenching his teeth to keep from crying out as Krei continued to pull wires from his implants, Rocket struggled to speak. “What happened?” He asked warily as the memories came flooding back to him. Feeling an insistent pounding at the base of his skull, Rocket squeezed his eyes shut again, pressing his head further into the metal of the table as though it would somehow rid him of the pain.  
“You lost consciousness partway through your procedure.” The man answered, barely glancing at the raccoon over the rims of his glasses. “Which is a shame, I would have loved to get some brain activity readings during your modifications.”   
Rocket frowned, baring his teeth and letting out a low growl, although weak and caught in the back of his throat, but getting the point across nonetheless. “I ain’t your property anymore Krei. I never said anything ‘bout brain activity.” He slurred, bending his elbows and knees instinctively, trying to pull himself from the restraints once again. “Now lemme out!”  
“Hmm.” Was all he received in response as Krei only moved from his line of sight again.  
Rocket frowned, opening his mouth to say something when another wave of pain filled his head, making all of the reddened skin and bloody scalpel incisions feel like no more than minor discomforts compared to the pulsating of his brain against his skull. Letting out a grunt of pain, Rocket struggled to open his eyes again. “’m head hurts.” He managed through bared teeth, pulling again against his restraints which, by now, were most likely covered in bruises.  
“Just your cybernetics coming back online.” Krei said in a monotone voice.  
The raccoon’s fur stood on end as the man’s hand brushed his clenched hands, undoing the bonds that held him down tightly. The instant the fourth limb had been freed, Rocket practically flung himself from the table, ignoring the pain in his head and the weakness of his exhausted body as he collapsed onto the hard floor below. Another wave of nausea washed over him as Rocket struggled to raise himself onto his hands and knees, staring wide-eyed at the crimson blood that began to drip from the long cut on his chest.  
His arms were shaking under the weight of his body, but despite the pure exhaustion that threatened to send Rocket back into the world of unconsciousness, he managed still to take notice of the fact that none of his limbs had given into a spasm attack.  
“I- did it work?” He stuttered, blinking furiously to stay awake, forcing himself to keep his gaze on his hands as they obeyed his focused instruction, flexing open and closed against the tiled flooring ever so slowly rather that the pain that had enveloped his entire body.  
The creature’s ears twitched furiously as they searched for the man who had yet to move since Rocket had taken his place on the floor.  
Using what little strength he could muster, Rocket pushed himself further off the floor so that he was instead, sitting with his knees tucked up underneath him, relieving his aching arms of their burden. He raised his hands us towards him weakly, stretching out and curling his fingers repeatedly, turning his hands over and marveling at the ease of their movements. Oh what a relief it was to have control again.  
His ears twitched again, sensing Krei’s shifting lab coat behind him as the man moved from his position at the bloodstained table, taking a step closer to the raccoon. He felt the fur at the base of his neck raise in warning and discomfort as Krei’s presence drew closer, but Rocket ignored it nonetheless, taking instead to staring incredulously at his hands.  
He was fixed.  
“I don’t believe it.” He murmured to himself.  
“Didn’t think I could do it?” Krei asked, and quite loudly for the raccoon’s taste as his ears flung back to pin themselves to the top of his head.  
Rocket frowned before turning ever so slightly towards the man. “Didn’t think you would.” He admitted, still refraining from meeting the man’s gaze entirely. He hated to admit it, especially seeing as though he was now sitting on the floor of the building that haunted his every nightmare, blood-soaked and still shivering in panic at even the thought of Halfworld or his ‘creator.’ But he was flexing his paws and in control of every motion because of them.  
“I-it’s gone now right?” He asked, furious at how weak his voice sounded. He was not a weak person, and had any of the Guardians been present, he sure as hell wouldn’t be slumped over on the floor staring at his hands like an idiot. But for now, as he slowly began to forget about the pain, Rocket decided that the only thing that mattered now was that that thing… that monster, wouldn’t come back.  
“Your original programming? Unfortunately yes.” Krei asked, still sounding almost unamused by the whole endeavor. Rocket frowned in disapproval at the term ‘programming’ but seeing as he was still struggling to grasp the fact that his limbs were moving at his own volition, he decided to ignore it. However, he felt himself stiffen when the man spoke again.  
“That proved to be ineffective seeing as you managed to overcome that on your own.” The calm levels of his voice were still unnervingly disinterested, so much so that Rocket had almost overlooked the comment all together. Almost.  
“What are you talking about?” He growled, finally looking up to face the man fully.  
Krei was standing no more than ten feet away, gaze turned down as he fiddled with a remote of sorts in his hands. Most likely the controls for the wires that had been attached to the raccoon’s cybernetic system only moments before.  
Or at least that was what Rocket had assumed before Krei’s dark eyes flickered towards the collapsed animal in question. He felt an uncomfortable twisting in his gut. Something was wrong.  
“Believe it or not,” He began, his voice sending shivers up the raccoon’s spine. “You weren’t designed to save the Galaxy, Rocket.” He continued, ignoring the creatures on guard posture as he glared back at him, secretly trying to plan his escape. Picking up the device he had been tinkering with for the past few minutes, Krei looked back down again, twisting the thing in his palms idly. “You were built to destroy.”  
That seemed to be all Rocket was willing to take before he had struggled to his feet racing on all fours towards the door. He didn’t make it far however before an electric shock racked his body.   
“Gah!” He shouted out in surprise, his back arching involuntarily before dropping unceremoniously onto the floor. He felt the muscles in his arms stiffen as the raccoon moved to clutch at his head, the pain growing even more as he sat sprawled out and unable to move an inch on the cold floor. “What did you do to me!” He shouted, struggling to raise himself to his feet again, only to find that his entire body was held stiffly in place, as though he had been frozen in place all together.  
“You were built to be a weapon, 89P13. You could pretend to be a hero as much as you want, but we both know you would end up as the monster you were created to be.” Krei called down, his voice suddenly much closer that the man had been only seconds ago, although Rocket couldn’t see him from his position.  
“You bastard! You said you would fix me!” Rocket shouted furiously, his breathing suddenly becoming heavy and labored as he continued to try and regain control of his body.  
“I did.” Krei answered plainly, shifting behind the raccoon as he continued to play with the device in his hands. “The funny thing I realized after you, unfortunately gave out on me during our procedure-“  
“Yeah having no sedatives’ a bitch that way.” Rocket interrupted icily.  
“-Was that your problem was not that your programming was not flickering offline.” Rocket stiffened at this. Or at least what would have been considered as stiffening for someone who was paralyzed. “No, you managed to overcome those barriers long ago after you practically destroyed this place trying to get out. What you were experiencing was your cybernetics somehow turning themselves back on.”  
Rocket clenched his teeth. He wanted nothing more than to get himself out of this mess, to forget that any of this had ever happened. Although, seeing as though he was at the moment unable to do any escaping whatsoever, it seemed as though that was out of the question. “What are you saying?” He managed, knowing that Krei was all but expecting for his decommissioned subject to press on.  
“I am saying that there was essentially nothing for me to fix. When you left our care, you, as you probably recall, were in between procedures.” Rocket scoffed, as if he could have forgotten the day he had finally achieved his freedom. Then again, here he was, after voluntarily contacting the man who had tortured him the most in the same damned facility that he had promised never to return to.  
“Your programming had been shut off for a moment’s time before you had left us, leaving that portion of your cybernetic enhancements idle for the next few years to come.”  
Rocket frowned. “So I-“  
“You were not breaking down, you were coming back, back to your senses, the real you. All those years outside the facility, away from your home, that was when you were truly broken.”  
“No! I’m not that thing, I’m not that-“  
“Monster?” Krei placed a hand on the raccoon’s shoulder, rolling him over so that he was forced to face the man. Rocket clenched his eyes shut in retaliation, refusing to give into him, despite his current situation. “I hate to break it to you, subject. But that’s exactly what you are, no matter how much you try to suppress the matter, you know it is the truth. You were created to destroy. You’re no more than a weapon we made just to see how far we could go. You are a monster.”  
Rocket was shaking now, trying his hardest to drown out the voice.  
“And this time,” Rocket let out a shaky breath as the man continued. “I can control it.”  
Another shock ran up the creature’s spine as his eyes flung open, finding Krei leaning uncomfortably close over his fallen figure and his finger held over the device as though to make a point. At the push of a button, Rocket’s back was arching off the ground again, his arms in legs pulling themselves up underneath him to push him into a standing position.  
It wasn’t until the surges had died down that he realized what had happened. “N-no.” He whispered breathlessly, clutching his head with what little control he had.  
“I think I’ve finally perfected the modifications this time around. Krei said, almost exuberantly as he clapped a hand on Rocket’s back, causing the shuddering raccoon to pitch forward again. “Now, how shall we test this new upgrade hm?”  
Rocket bared his teeth, fully set of tearing the man’s throat out entirely, when something caught his attention.  
“Rocket!”  
“I am Groot!”  
He felt his stomach drop at the sounds of his team mates as they entered the building. It didn’t take long after making the mistake of allowing his gaze to meet Krei’s before the horrible feeling of dread filled his entire being.  
The man didn’t waste a second in moving his thumb to press another button on the device, ignoring the painful yelp of the creature beside him, watching as Rocket’s struggling ceased, his eyes darkening as they dilated into an animalistic blank stare.  
“Kill them.”


	10. Chapter 10

Peter jumped back a bit as Groot practically tore through the doors, waiting to make sure the force of the furious beast’s weight wouldn’t send the slabs of heavy wood crashing back into him. It wasn’t even a moment later that the man had both blasters clutched in each hand, his mask covering his face and illuminating his vision with a faint red glow.  
The place had obviously been abandoned for a good amount of time seeing as though most of the white tile and furniture that covered the facility appeared almost grey with thick layers of dust. Peter had to fight the urge to cough just looking at the clouds of dust that lifted into the air with every step despite his mask’s filtering systems.  
No one had any clue where Rocket was being held, let alone if he was even still in the facility in the first place, but they continued through empty hallways nevertheless, listening to their footsteps echoing against the walls.  
He felt a shudder run up his spine upon the sight of discarded cages and scalpels that littered the hallways and the larger rooms. He kept telling himself it was only his imagination or the red tinted lenses he was staring through, but he could have sworn that there were still spots of blood staining the bars of the cages and the tops of metallic tables.  
The initial plan was to be as silent as possible. No one knew how many people would be patrolling about the building or if they knew someone would be coming to the raccoon’s aid, but Gamora had made it clear to them that they needed to infiltrate the facility and find Rocket before taking any action.  
That plan, however, did not last long. The moment they heard the cry of terror echoing off the white walls, it seemed as though every one of the remaining Guardians has forgotten there was a plan in place at all as they took off down the corridor, Groot and Peter taking up the lead and blasting their way through another pair of doors as they shouted for Rocket.  
“Rocket!” Gamora shouted from behind him, her voice echoing loudly through the seemingly empty facility. For as far as they had traveled in, there hadn’t been a single sign of life to be found. No lights flickering dimly in the distance, no sound of people talking or even any signs of struggle, in fact, if it weren’t for the rest of the team, Peter would have discarded the strangled yelp they had heard moments before as part of his paranoia.  
They hadn’t heard anything since, and Peter was growing increasingly worried, exchanging glances with Drax and Gamora as they kept on moving, shouting for their lost team mate and listening carefully for a response.  
“We need to split up.” Gamora offered, pulling her sword from its place at her hip and clutching it firmly in her grasp. “We’ll be able to find him faster.”  
Peter didn’t waste a second in whirling around and wrapping his hand around her wrist. “No, no, bad idea. We can’t split up, or we’ll lose each other in this maze just like Rocket.” He said sternly. “We go in teams of two, you and Drax take the left wing and Groot and I will continue this way. Try to make contact with the others the second you find him.”  
Drax and Gamora nodded curtly, both gripping their weapons of choice tightly and taking off down their designated wing.  
…  
Gamora halted in her step for the fourth time since having left Groot and Peter to their section of the facility, stopping in her tracks to listen intently to the shifting sounds surrounding the remaining two. It seemed as though no matter how far they tread, however, the sounds never amounted to much more than the tapping of a limp tree branch banging against one of the already broken windows or the rain from outside seeping in through the ceiling, hitting the white tiled floor with echoing drops.  
That didn’t stop the two from brandishing their weapons whenever Gamora decided to stop to listen, the paranoia of it all getting to her head.  
“We will never find him at this pace.” She muttered, gripping the sword by her side tighter in her hand as though losing all feeling in her fingers would somehow enhance her senses. “For all we know, he could already be gone, if not dead.”  
She let out a grunt of frustration before moving forward again, walking along the perimeter of the corridor as to kick open the doors to the darkened rooms. Drax only nodded in agreement, following suit in opening and checking in the rooms lining the opposite side of the hallway, not having said a word since the group had split.  
“And then what if he is?” The woman continued, suddenly unable to stop the words from tumbling off of her tongue and into the dusty air. “What if he is dead and all we find is a bloodied corpse of that stubborn rat and we have come all this way for nothing?” She asked, using the heel of her boot to tear another door from its hinges, not even checking the handles anymore, despite the fact that most of the barriers they had come across had been unlocked. “And we’d have to tell Groot were we to find it first. We never should have allowed him to leave the ship, we should have known. I should have-“  
“Oh you must stop!”  
Gamora froze in front of her next wooden victim before whirling around to face Drax, fury practically radiating off of her entire being. “What are you-“ But she was only cut off again as Drax frowned further, reaching to grasp her upper arm before pushing her forward along his side.  
“We have lost Rocket hours ago, and your constant rambling is getting us no closer to finding him.”  
Gamora growled, pulling her arm back and taking a few paces ahead as to avoid eye contact with the man. She didn’t know why Quill insisted of the two being a pair whilst on their raccoon hunt. But it had become painfully obvious to her that she would have rather been traveling with Groot, or even the irritating Starlord himself on this misadventure.  
“I understand your self blame in the situation, Gamora.” Drax said gruffly behind her, making to catch up with the furious woman once again. “It would be a lie to say I did not blame myself for the deaths of my wife and daughter. But allowing the guilt to consume your actions will not allow you to proceed any further on our mission.”  
Gamora raised her brow skeptically, looking at the tattooed man with a confused frown lining her green lips before speaking. “You spent the past decade trying to kill Ronan.” She deadpanned.  
Drax only nodded, smiling almost triumphantly at the mention of the deceased accuser. “But I no longer blamed myself for their deaths. The fault was his.”  
Gamora smirked slightly, knowing there was no reason in quarreling with the destroyer once he had made his claim. She made to say something when the sound of something shifting, muffled through the barrier of thick concrete caught her attention. Her head whipped to the left as she listened intently to the sound, suddenly thankful for the enhanced senses Thanos had given her.  
“What is it?” Drax asked hoarsely. Gamora winced and gritted her teeth together as she continued to listen. She would have to make a mental note of explaining to the man what the concept of whispering was.  
“This way.” She responded curtly, holding her unsheathed weapon in front of her, clutching the hilt tightly with both hands as she leaned her head towards the door’s surface. The shifting came again. There was definitely someone one the other side.  
She didn’t give the situation a second thought before taking the handle in her hand, setting her jaw when the thing refused to turn and the movement inside slowed rapidly. She prayed, for both Rocket’s sake as well as her own, that whoever or whatever was inside the room had not heard the sound of the intruders from their position.  
It wasn’t until a few moments of silence had passed that Gamora turned from her position at the door and towards the larger man looming over her right shoulder, repressing the urge to strike him when she felt his heavy breath on the back of her neck as he stared back with anticipation.  
“It’s locked.” She whispered, gesturing to the handle slightly.  
Drax’s frown deepened. “None of the doors have been locked so far.” He observed plainly.  
Gamora only rolled her eyes, pressing a hand against his chest to move him aside before backing up a few paces from the door herself, nodding once towards the man and then to the twin daggers he held tightly in both hands. Realizing the woman’s intentions, Drax took another step from their entry way, holding his arms up higher into a defensive position, waiting for his chance to attack.  
The kick Gamora had given took the metal door down in a burst of dust and debris, sending pieces of the cracked concrete everywhere as both she and Drax ducked through their newly made entrance.  
Neither Drax nor the room’s current occupant had a chance to react beyond the processing of the broken down door before Gamora had him pinned by the neck against the table he had been standing at, practically leaping on him with all of her weight and forcing him to arch his back so that he lay helplessly against the metallic surface.  
“Agh!” The men cried out in pain as an audible snap sounded through the room, his body struggling furiously to free himself from the furious woman’s hold. She had one hand gripping his wrist tightly, nails digging into the skin for good measure, and her sword held to his throat with the other.  
“Who are you?” She shouted, anger practically dripping off of her ever word.  
However, his reaction was more than unpredictable as an unsettling smile spread across his face. “He said you would come.” He managed, craning his neck slightly, trying to escape the metal that was hovering just barely above the skin of his throat.  
“Who are you?” She repeated through gritted teeth, pressing harder on the hilt and bringing a thin line of blood to the surface of the man’s skin and smiling to herself when the smug smile slipped into a strained grimace.  
“Gamora.” She spared Drax only a glance as he approached the table. “The furred one was here.”  
Upon closer inspection of the dimly lit room, it was obvious that their captive had not been alone before their arrival. Small pools of blood stained the floor at the foot of the operation table. Or at least that’s all Gamora could think to call is as even more blood dripped off the side of the metal slab, seeping into the white jacket her captive was wearing as his spine was jammed into one of the four metal cuffs that were welded to it.  
“Where is he? What have you done!” She seethed, raising her knee to pin down the arm that wasn’t already held at the wrist with her knee as she felt him trying to wriggle away once again.  
The man let out a choked growl of discomfort before meeting her eyes again, smiling another toothy grin that would have made her shudder had the fury she felt boiling in her blood not already taken over. “I’ve only done what he asked for.” Gamora hardened her gaze, pressing down the sword even further, demanding further explanation. “I fixed him.”  
“Where is he?”  
Another guttural chuckle echoed off the walls of the room and Gamora had to resist the desire to kill him right there. “Something tells me, you won’t have trouble finding him. It’s already looking for you.”  
She curled her upper lip into a disgusted grimace at the title of ‘it,’ almost slicing his head clean off had Drax not dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder, forcing her to turn around to face him without easing any weight off of the man pinned beneath her. Her eyes had hardly lifted from her victim before meeting with the device Drax held in his hands.  
…  
Groot frowned, pulling open another door and glancing halfheartedly over the darkened room’s emptiness before shutting it again, moving on to the next. It was a rhythm he and Peter had picked up over the amount of time they had spent in almost complete silence. Without Rocket as his translator, the language barrier had become much more prominent to the tree man as he found it almost impossible to communicate with ease anymore.  
It was obvious that neither of them could shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong as they walked on. Then again, with Rocket missing, nothing seemed quite right.  
“Don’t worry bud, we’ll find him.” Peter assured him, placing a hand on the Flora Colossus’ shoulder, although he honestly couldn’t tell at this point if he were trying to comfort Groot or himself at the moment. Despite the Terran looking rather ridiculous trying to console the eight-foot tall tree man with a hug, Groot allowed a smile to stretch across his face, nodding in agreement toward Peter.  
He knew they would find Rocket. Not only was he, as well as the other Guardians, determined to get their lost friend back, Groot felt as though he could almost sense the raccoon’s presence in the building, and the deeper they went, the more sure of himself he became that he would soon be reunited with him. However, the horrible feeling never left the pit of his stomach. That sinking feeling in his gut that made him wonder if what they found would actually be Rocket.  
Opening another door on his selected side of the corridor, Peter continued. Feeling almost as though he were talking to himself at this point. “Don’t worry, we’ll-“ He froze mid-step, almost causing the lumbering tree to run him over entirely had Groot not stopped himself, stumbling a bit to catch his footing. He looked down at the man with confusion, wondering what had caused him to halt so suddenly.  
Peter wasn’t interested in informing Groot on their predicament however, instead, he was standing frozen in the doorway of the seemingly empty room, staring wide-eyed with his mouth hanging slightly ajar as he stared blankly into the darkness ahead of him. Groot lowered his brow, wondering what it had been to cause Peter to act so strangely, hesitantly looking forward to follow the frozen man’s gaze.  
“I am Groot!”  
Peter nearly leapt out of his skin upon hearing the great exuberant burst of glee from the being behind him, effectively snapping him out of his daze as Groot pushed past him and barreled into the room towards the somewhat familiar looking ball of fur in the corner of the room.  
He had hardly begun to follow in Groot’s footsteps when the dark figure practically yelped upon detecting his presence, an unnervingly animalistic growl rumbling from his throat after Groot had begun to back himself away again, sensing the creatures discomfort.  
“Rocket?” Peter asked quizzically, keeping his eyes locked on the figure in the corner as he felt the wall for a switch. The lights, to Peter’s bewilderment, flickered on weakly, bathing the room in a white light. It wasn’t a moment after he had illuminated the room that Peter wanted to return to the comfort and ambiguity of the darkness as he almost stumbled backwards from the sight in front of him.  
The bundle of fur was now covered in blood and shaking terribly as Rocket’s hands clutched his head, raking his fingers, nails in particular, through the hair lining his ears, scraping deep and leaving trails of red. The tattered, orange jumpsuit he had left with was now completely stripped away, leaving the implants on his chest and shoulder blades exposed.  
“Rocket!” Peter practically shouted, causing the lump on the floor to curl further into itself, pulling on the ears atop its head. He ceased in his running, limiting himself to slower paced movements towards the raccoon as Rocket continued to shudder.  
Groot, on the other hand, had already make it to his friend’s side in two long strides, falling heavily to his knees as he lowered himself towards Rocket’s level, reaching out carefully to lift the furry creature up into an embrace.  
“Don’t touch me!”  
Groot practically fell back on himself as Rocket lifted one hand from his scabbed face to swipe angrily at the hands in front of him.  
To say Rocket looked ‘worse for wear’ would have been a major understatement. The red seeping from an incision on the raccoon’s collar as well as the thin lines Rocket had drawn onto himself caused his fur to clump and droop with the weight it had collected and the scarred skin around the implants on his chest was left red and inflamed for reasons unknown to Peter, and to be quite honest, he didn’t think he wanted to know either.  
Groot stared dumbfoundly at the creature before him, shifting uncomfortably in place at he sat tall above his friend. The flora colossus slowly moved his gaze, turning towards Peter, his eyes gleaming with confusion.  
As far as the Guardians knew, Rocket had never been one for comfort or consolation, but he had never turned down a single gesture from Groot, always rolling his eyes in false aggression before allowing himself to give into the tree’s gentle strokes through his fur, or the way Groot insisted on carrying the raccoon everywhere. So it was obvious that, Groot felt just as startled, if not more so, than Peter as the raccoon swiped at the air as though willing them to leave.  
“Rocket.” The name tumbled out of his mouth again as Peter finally tore himself from his position in the center of the room, making his way over to his comrade’s side. Rocket only growled again, this time seeming much more forced than the first as he struggled to pry his eyes open to look at the two figures in front of him.  
Peter shifted himself slightly when Rocket winced at the harsh lighting above them, making sure his shadow blocked the beams enough for him to see clearly. “Hey bud, we’re gonna get you out of here alright?” He said calmly, kneeling down and adjusting himself beside the raccoon and moving his hands out as to pull him into a cradled hold.  
“No!” The strangled cry tore from the creature just as Peter’s fingers brushed the fur on his back. Rocket’s eyes shot open in panic as he launched to his feet, stumbling slightly before moving his hands back to his temples as though letting go would cause his skull to split entirely.  
Dark eyes flickered from one figure to the next before the raccoon’s breathing finally started to even out. “Pete?” He asked shakily, eyes widening slightly as he took another step back, only to find that he had backed himself into a wall.  
His gaze, however, despite the fact that it had yet to trail from either of the two people crouching in front of him, had yet to meet their eyes. Instead, Rocket seemed to be far more interested in the cut lining Peter’s cheek and the black scorch marks that still etched themselves on Groot’s upper arm.  
The tree in question was the first to grasp the idea, his body positioning itself so that the arm was no longer in sight while reaching out with the second, offering Rocket a hand as a sign of forgiveness. “I am Gr-“  
“N-no! You have to go. Now!” Rocket shouted raspily, cutting off his friend before he could even finish his trademark catchphrase. Groot’s smile fell instantly, his expression changing from confusion to absolute devastation in a matter of seconds, something that Peter found especially unnerving.  
“Rocket, what happened?”  
“He-he… I can’t -GAH!” Rocket’s hands fell from his head, clawing at the wall behind him stiffly as though they had been physically pulled away and restrained. His entire being was shaking horribly as the raccoon’s breathing became harsher and labored, his eyes blinking frantically.  
“H-hey.” Peter stuttered softly, adjusting himself in his crouched position as to make his way closer to Rocket, eyeing the panicked Groot out of the corner of his eye. “Rocket, it doesn’t matter, we’re going to help you, okay? We’ll fix this. I don’t know what happened here but-“  
“Fix this!” The Terran almost fell back on himself at the sudden outburst, shutting his mouth with an audible ‘snap’ as he stared worriedly back at his friend. Rocket’s shaking only worsened as he bared his teeth at Peter, glaring almost menacingly toward the figures in front of him. “It’s too late for that.”  
“Peter!” Gamora’s voice rang in through the cuff around his ear, her voice muffled by static as she practically shouted through her own earpiece.  
Sparing the heavy breathing raccoon one last glance, Peter pressed a finger against the microphone piece of his cuff. “Gamora, we found him. But something’s wro-“  
“Get out of there! It’s not him, it’s a trap!”  
Peter furrowed his brow in confusion. “What do you mean? Trap for who?” He asked, his heart beating to a slight panic, only leaping higher in velocity when he heard the click of a gun’s safety being turned off to his side.  
“You.”  
Not that he needed to hear Gamora’s answer before pointing his own gun at the dark eyed creature in front of him.


	11. Chapter 11

“Rocket, put the gun down.” Peter started, holding a hand out in a calming gesture. Although, judging on what had happened the last time the raccoon had been found with a pistol in his hands, he doubted there would be any reasoning to be done in the first place. Which is why he was prepared this round when Rocket pulled the trigger, dodging the blast by mere inches as he practically barreled full force into Groot.  
“Come on bud, we’ve gotta go.” He managed as he leapt to his feet, nearly tackling the larger being as he heard the creature behind him charging the gun again.   
“I am Groot.” He managed, looking desperately towards Rocket as he was pulled out of the way of another blast, the rough bark covering his body blackening as the heat singed his arm. Letting out a distressed whine, he continued back into the hallway, actually grabbing Peter’s arm and lifting the man off of his own feet to wrench him from harm’s way.  
Finally overcoming his initial shock of being quite literally swept off of his own feet, Peter stumbled his way out of Groot’s grasp, faltering for a few steps before gaining his footing again. He made the horrible mistake of turning around, hoping that Rocket had fallen into a state of at least partial control, only to almost trip over his own feet at the sight of the creature, teeth bared and guns blazing only a few steps behind them.  
“Shit!” He gasped out, tugging Groot sharply around another corner, praying for dear life that they would be able to gain a few feet of ground ahead of the raging animal at their heels. “We need a plan.”  
Unfortunately for them, Rocket was the genius of the group. Not that the others couldn’t think up a decent strategy in these kind of situations, but Rocket was the quick thinker, the risk taker, the only one who could worm his way out of practically any situation. Hell, the guy had escaped twenty-three prisons on his own within the short amount of time he had lived outside the Halfworld facility.  
But seeing as though the running Peter was doing as of now was carrying the two Guardians away from Rocket’s direction, he doubted that he would be willing to communicate any kind of escape plan with them. In fact, it seemed odd to Peter that Rocket was acting right now without a plan of his own, seeming to be enacting purely on instinct. Not that the gun-toting guardian wasn’t at times spontaneous with his decisions, but it was almost unnerving to see him, even without any sense of his actual self, to be chasing them down like some crazed maniac without some course of action unfolding itself within his mind… unless there was one.  
“Gamora, where are you?” He shouted into the communicator, hoping that the horrible signals the planet had been giving off wouldn’t chose now to short out their earpieces.  
“Quill!” Gamora’s voice responded, static laced into the words, but understandable nonetheless. “Quill, listen to me, it’s a trap, you’ve got to get yourselves out of there before Rocket finds you.”  
Peter cursed angrily under his breath, trying to keep himself focused enough on the problem at hand to keep his speed up as another blast of energy reminded him exactly why he was running in the first place. “Yeah, too late for that.” He resorted, sparing a glance back at Rocket. “You didn’t happen to have thought of a backup plan were Rocket to be chasing us down with a plasma blaster did you?”  
He heard Gamora let out a string of curses, shouting towards who he could only guess was Drax, although the words were lost in the sea of static that filled the man’s head. “Try and restrain him for now, we’re on our way.”  
And with that the call was dropped, leaving Peer and Groot alone once again to try and think up a strategy of their own. There was always the choice of running until the raccoon tired himself out, but judging by the fact that those chances of a Terran man beating a cybernetically advanced and gun-wielding creature were very low, that idea was almost instantly put aside.  
Groot however, had ideas of his own, stopping in his tracks and running in the opposite direction.  
Peter watched in Shock, stumbling to a stop when his friend turned on a heel, running back straight toward Rocket. It seemed as though the raccoon in particular wasn’t expecting the sudden turn of events either, as his dark eyes widened slightly, his fingers fumbling over the trigger as he tried to regain control of his reflexes.  
He never managed to make a shot however as Groot lifted Rocket unceremoniously around the middle, forming vines that only thickened as they wrapped themselves around the raging creature. A few stray tendrils moved to pull the weapon from Rocket’s hands, only making him grasp the pistol that much tighter.  
He snarled and snapped his teeth at the branches tightening around his midsection, arching his neck as he tried fruitlessly to pull himself from Groot’s grip. “Stop!” He cried out, taking both the flora colossus and human alike aback. His voice sounded horribly forced, his teeth clenched shut tightly and his lips pulling up into a snarl that told Peter he wouldn’t leave with all fingers intact were he to get to close.  
All signs of understanding were short lived however as Rocket reverted back to growling and kicking, his eyes squinting shut as Groot tried to turn him around in his arms so that he was facing the tree man.  
Peter, shaking off his initial shock, made is way ever so carefully to Groot’s side, angling himself so that he stood in front of the creature. “Rocket?” He tried, waving a hand in front of the raccoon’s face, hoping to receive some sort of reaction. He wasn’t listening though, instead clenching his eyes shut even tighter and thrashing wildly in Groot’s grip. Peter let out an exhausted sigh, running his hands through his hair before allowing his fingers to brush over the button on his ear cuff and allowing the mask to recede.  
Blinking furiously, trying to readjust his vision to the dimly lit hallway, he switched on the communicator on again. “Gamora, we’ve got him for now, where are you?”  
…  
He was running.  
No, chasing.  
Chasing enemies.  
Friends. Rocket corrected himself. Family. Why?  
They were running too. Running away. Away from the gun. From the thing covered in blood and fighting every moment for the control of its own limbs. From you. They’re running from you. From the monster.  
They had come to save him, and now they were going to die, because of him.  
Running.  
The gun was lifted into his line of sight again, the only thing showing clearly in his otherwise disoriented sense of vision. It looked as though he were staring at everything through a long tunnel, his line of sight growing smaller and more constricted the more he tried to focus his eyes. His friends were no more than darkened shapes, outlined only by the harsh white light surrounding them. Targets.  
Stop.  
Turn.  
Shoot.  
Recharge.  
Shoot.  
Recharge.  
Sho-   
Something was coming towards, it, the largest one that smelled like leaves and dirt. The charging gun shook slightly in its hands as it tried is best to shoot the damn tree.  
Rocket wanted to shout with glee when two long branches came towards, wrapping him in a tight embrace and pulling his body close to his own. Vines snaked around his form, forcing his arms to his sides and twisting him so that he faced the dark figure.  
It kicked. It bit. It struggled to keep the weapon in its hands when the vines tried to wrench it from its grasp.  
Rocket internally let out a sigh of relief, knowing that the monster wasn’t about to cause any more damage for the time being. Despite the amount of kicking and barking it tried, Groot’s branches only thickened, keeping the creature at bay with his tight grip around his middle. Very tight. Too tight. Rocket couldn’t breathe. Stop. STOP, you’re killing me!  
“Stop!” they both shouted.  
More squirming. More kicking. It wasn’t breathing and the more it fought to inhale, the more he other in the back of its head started to agree, allowing the creature full control of its limbs as they both began to panic.  
“Rocket.”  
Peter’s voice was much louder this time, shouting for him to open his eyes.  
It shook its head, trying to get rid of the Other. The Terran was trying to get the Other’s attention, trying to bring him back, and due to the lack of oxygen and the numbness filling its entire body, it seemed as though the strategy was working.  
“Groot.”  
NO! The other was not supposed to speak, to regain that control. The other had destroyed it long ago. Abandoned it, after his programming had been disconnected. The other had tried to kill It, thought it was a monster.  
It bit down on the tongue that was moving unconsciously around the dry mouth as the Other tried forming another word.  
Blood filled his mouth and Rocket wanted to shout in pain, only to find he no longer had the control to move his jaw again. He felt as though he were trapped, unable to move or speak, a prisoner inside his own body, slowly losing consciousness as he fought to breathe. Well, that wasn’t exactly true, he could move and speak just fine, just not on his own volition as the thing that had possessed his body continued to overpower him.  
Its eyes snapped open as more voices filled the corridor, a woman and a large man. More targets.   
NO.  
It shook its head again when the other tried to force his way out again. The two new targets were speaking with the Terran in angry hushed tones, sometimes gesturing towards the creature in the tree’s grasp. However, it wasn’t listening to heir conversation, despite the other’s curiosity toward the subject at hand, but was looking toward the fifth figure that had been pulled alongside the large man with a great amount of force.  
The creator.  
Krei.  
…  
“Gamora, thank god.” Peter managed, turning from the wheezing raccoon in Groot’s arms and towards the woman, only to come to a halt once he spotted the extra body. “Who’s this?” He asked cautiously, gesturing toward the man.  
Despite the bruises at his throat and wrists and the blood dripping from his nose (due to the two assassins who had escorted him no doubt) the man gave Peter a toothy smile. No, not Peter. He was looking right past the Terran actually, staring at a spot directly over his left shoulder. He was grinning at Rocket.  
The animal in question only struggled further, his dark eyes locked on the man and the gun that had yet to leave his grasp being clutched tighter.  
“What, he has not spoken of me?” The man asked raspily, rubbing at his bruised neck with the hand that wasn’t being restrained by Drax.  
Peter frowned, deciding against questioning Drax’s captive and turning towards Gamora for an answer instead, although he already knew what the outcome was. So despite the sinking feeling he felt in his stomach when the woman nodded curtly towards the squirming raccoon, Peter couldn’t have said he was all too surprised.  
He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to resist the urge to fling himself at the man and sock him in the jaw. Although judging by the bruises lining his cheeks and under his inflamed eye, both Drax and Gamora had already taken that liberty upon themselves.  
“You did this?” He asked through gritted teeth, gesturing towards Rocket, who had become sluggish in his struggling, staring wide eyed, almost pleadingly, towards the lab coat clad man across from him.  
He received a toothy grin in response. “I did as he asked.”  
“What? He asked you to mess with his brain, take away his sanity?” Peter asked angrily, practically seething. “Turn him into some…” He trailed off, finding himself unable to find the words.  
“Monster?” His head snapped up at the man’s remark, wincing slightly when he heard Rocket let out an angry growl from behind him.  
“What did you do to him?” It was Gamora this time, seeing as though Peter had clenched his jaw too tightly to draw any more words from himself. A choked gasp caught his attention as Rocket tried again to force himself out of Groot’s hold, which only tightened the more the raccoon managed to wriggle, causing another breathless sound to escape the creature’s throat.  
“I fixed him. 89P13 was not built to protect the galaxy.” He spat back, blood dripping from his lip as he did so. “It was built to destroy. Your friend Rocket surfaced only when systems were shut down, only when 89P13’s programming was out for the count. He’s a parasite, nothing more than a voice in the back of its head now.”  
Peter stiffened as it let out a rumble of agreement, baring its teeth again when the man turned toward him, walking closer so that he blocked the distance between it and the white coat.  
With his limbs restrained by the vines encasing it in a tight cocoon, the creature was forced to resort to the violent swishing of its stiffened tail and the frantic twitching of the ears atop its head to communicate any information. It was just like back on the Milano. Ears swiveling like radio antennae trying to pick up a signal, eyes staring blankly into the space ahead of it as though searching for a far off object.  
Peter bit his lip angrily, reaching his hands forward and ignoring the low growl he received in warning. “Rocket, I know you’re still in there buddy.” He managed, reaching toward the creature’s head and placing a hand on each side of the skull, holding on tightly when it reacted, teeth snapping furiously and head pulling weakly from the hold as he tried to wrench himself away.   
“I am Groot.” The Flora Colossus crooned, relaxing his grip just barely, hoping to encourage a sense of comfort in his otherwise rib-cracking hold. Unfortunately, it took this as the chance of escape, pulling an arm from the cocoon. This wouldn’t have been much of a problem had that hand not been holding onto the pistol still.  
…  
Breathe. It could breathe again. It could move again.  
Use the gun, pick up the gun and shoot. Instructions scrolled through its mind, how to escape the bone crushing grip of the tree, how to shoot at the wooded figure. 89P13 pulled its lips back into a snarl, when the smell of burned wood and smoke filled its nostrils sending its reflexes into overdrive when the figures began to react.  
There were more of them now. All of them. Targets.  
Stop! Rocket wanted to shout. To claw his way out of this confinement he was trapped in. He couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything to stop this, to stop it. He heard more voices, frantic shouting from his friends as their shadowy figures began to blur together.  
It raised the gun again, aiming it a one of the approaching figures, biting its tongue as It felt the Other trying to speak out again. 89P13 never got the chance to fire however before the target tackled it. Its head hit the ground hard as one of the taller figures launched themselves at it, pinning down the arms and legs. It squirmed under the body, twisting and thrusting, baring its teeth at the woman above it and letting out a low growl.  
“-ket!”  
It shook its head as two hands clasped around the skull, forcing it, hissing and growling, to face the muffled and echoing voice. He snapped his teeth, letting out an angry bark, the fingers digging further into his temples when he tried to wrench himself from the woman’s grasp.  
It clawed and kicked against the restraining force, holding onto the pistol in its grip with all the strength it could muster, trying to angle it at any one of the other figures who dared to step into range.  
“Rocket!”  
He froze. The voice was muffled and his head felt like it was filled with nothing but cotton as the figures around him continued to shout frantically. But Rocket knew who had him pinned to the floor.  
“Rocket, you are stronger than this, fight it.” The voice came again, reigning from whoever was kneeling on his chest, forcing the hissing creature to face them and blocking off any of the other figures by sliding the palms of their hands forward.  
“…mora?” More blood filled his mouth as 89P13 bit down again, trying to silence the voice in the back of its head, but Rocket only pressed on, trying his hardest to force out more words, unfortunately amounting to no more than a garbled grunt.  
Green, it could see green highlighting the otherwise darkened figure’s skin.   
One of the hands from its place gripping at the side of its head and towards the gun. 89P13’s grasp tightened, using the distraction to its advantage and turning its head, twisting its neck around and sinking teeth into the green hand on the opposite side of its temple.  
A loud shout of pain and surprise filled the air as Rocket felt it wriggle further underneath the weight, raising the pistol and aiming it at the green splotch in front of them. Stop! He felt it shake their head, trying to push Rocket farther back into submission.  
The gun was charging.  
Vibrating in their hand with energy.  
Lifting up to point directly at Gamora’s chest.  
Then turning, ever so slowly.  
Pain emanated in their wrist, two opposing forces fighting to keep control of the trigger, one trying to keep the nozzle pointed at the woman while the stronger slowly pointed towards another.  
“Stop!” It growled out, trying with all of its strength to drop the weapon as it shifted targets. The voice in its head had grown louder. Stronger. “You’ll die!”  
No. It was all 89P13 could hear now, everything else was no more than a blur, voices drowning out by the other’s words as the whirring of the pistol’s gears became louder, the cool metal of the nozzle pressing against their head.  
We’ll die.


	12. Chapter 12

“And stay out!” Peter shouted, slamming the door after having shoved yet another doctor into the hallway and away from the sickeningly still Rocket who lay motionless on the bed.  
He stood there for a moment, his hands pressed up against the cool surface, trying to calm himself again by slowing his breathing and staring at the door as though it had somehow offended him. It had been almost two weeks now and if anything, Rocket’s conditioned had only worsened as an infection had wormed its way into the raccoon’s skull.  
The nurses had caught he illness early before it could spread, but the dosage of heavy medications had only increased, making it almost impossible to judge how close he was to recovery, if at all.  
“Peter.” Gamora said softly, almost hoarsely as she herself had not spoken more than what was necessary since having entering the hospital.  
“I want a new doctor, she doesn’t know what she’s doing.” He spat back, turning from the door and taking his spot next to the woman who was curled up in her own seat, a position the warrior would have never found herself in under any circumstances. Then again, the shock of their teammate’s condition had sent all of the Guardians into a false sense of reality as the situation slowly began to sink in.  
“She’s only trying to help.” She responded, not moving her eyes from the raccoon’s chest, making sure it rose and fell as it was supposed to.  
Peter frowned, clenching his fists at his sides. It was quick to discover that the four of them had different ways of coping with the possible death of their smallest teammate. Peter, however, found himself to be the only one to react with aggression, shouting at countless nurses as Rocket’s heartbeat fell to unstable levels or gained a slight fever and even on one (or two, he was slightly drunk for the second) occasion, punching a hole straight through the wall.  
The two assassins, ironically, reacted far differently. Gamora kept to herself, hardly opening her mouth to do anything but eat what was forced in front of her by Drax, the man who simply removed himself from the vicinity entirely, electing to sit in the courtyard where he would often times drag one of the others to get away from the hospital room.  
His victim of the day being Groot at the moment, who took nearly an hour to convince that leaving Rocket would not result in the creature’s death. Groot was much harder to read, not only due to the language barrier that infuriated Quill, but his mood was almost ever-changing. One moment the tree would be humming lowly to himself, smiling softly as he trailed a stray tendril across the fur of Rocket’s neck, and the next, he would be shrieking at some god-awful pitch at one of the nurses who tried to pick him up, arms flailing wildly as though about to backhand the person into the next room over.  
So Peter was glad that, after almost two weeks of being cooped up in a single room, Drax had managed to convince him to leave, hopefully giving Groot the sunlight he needed as his leaves had begun to pale.  
“Oh and killing him is going to help?” Peter asked incredulously, gesturing back to the closed door. Gamora shifted in her seat uncomfortably, still refusing to let her eyes wander from Rocket’s unconscious form.  
“I’m not suggesting we kill him Quill, not yet. But he may not wake up, he may be in pain as we speak and euthanizing him would-“  
“We’re not putting him down like some sick dog, Gamora. This is Rocket we’re talking about, he’ll be fine. We just need to allow him to heal.” He retorted, crossing his arms and string angrily at the IV drip, watching the liquid that trailed down to where Rocket’s arm was hidden under the thin sheet of the bed.  
“He shot himself in the head.” She answered blatantly, pointing almost shakily toward the small patch of red that had seeped through the white bandage around Rocket’s forehead. “That particular injury may not heal.”  
Peter clenched his fists, feeling the rage boiling his blood as his stare burned holes into Gamora’s right temple, her unwavering gaze beginning to put him even more on edge. It only built upon him in his anger to see that he, with the exception of the absent Groot, was the only one who had seemed to grasp the fact that Rocket was dying, not dead. Not if he had anything to do with it.  
It was an instance such as this one that Peter was glad that the raccoon’s creations were usually built more to disable than to kill, seeing as though the Procyon’s past occupation of bounty hunting usually called for its prize to be returned alive rather than a pile of blood and bones (most likely the preferred use of weapon’s in Rocket’s opinion.) However, the plasma loaded into the pistol had not been meant to have been held up so close to a ‘bounty’s’ head, launching the power source at such force into an already weakened creature’s skull.  
The nurses had said that the damage done to Rocket’s brain was inconclusive due to the sparking circuitry of the cyborg’s one-of-a-kind genetic and cybernetic systems, making it impossible to figure out exactly how the burned and short circuited wires had affected his state. So, thanks to the fact that neither the doctors nor nurses knew how to decipher the Halfworld files of the great mystery of 89P13, and the creature’s creator was all but a collapsed body with a snapped neck back at that godforsaken facility (something the Nova Corps gladly overlooked in terms of Drax’s criminal record,) the Guardians were left with nothing to do but simply stare at the comatose creature, staring at him as though they could will his eyes to open.  
“Peter,” Gamora began again, reaching out to grab one of his hands in hers, gently stroking the skin with her thumb and unfurling his fist he had been making. “I don’t want to let him go, I’m not asking for you to. And I’m sure Groot would be even harder to convince. But I am asking for you to be prepared to think of what’s best for him. He’s been through enough pain as it is, the last thing I want is to keep him suffering any further.”  
Peter didn’t answer, clenching his teeth tightly and turning his head away from her, trying to hide the fact that there were tears building up in his eyes. He didn’t pull away though, gripping her hand tighter as she continued to rub her green thumb over the back of his hand calmingly.  
They sat like that for a moment. Staring blankly into their own spaces silently, the heart monitor and the sounds of their breathing being the only thing to process in their minds.  
Peter didn’t want to think of the inevitable. It was obvious that the Guardians were going to each meet their own demise, whether it be in some grand explosion or at the hands of some tyrant with an infinity stone, and Rocket had mentioned that his lifespan didn’t stretch into the length of his companions, that much was accepted by the group. He just hadn’t expected for the loss of their smallest partner to come so quickly, leaving everyone in a state of utter denial. The fact that there was still that sliver of a chance to save him making the situation all that much worse. That Rocket was still balancing precariously on the line between life and death was almost worse than him having simply gone out altogether.  
Quill didn’t want Rocket dead, even the thought made him sick to his stomach. But the fact that they were left in the dark on whether or not he would wake from the coma he had fallen into, or even if he was still suffering within his unmoving body had him on edge.  
Gamora shifted again in her seat, this time pulling it so that she slid closer to Peter’s side, laying her head heavily on his shoulder. Peter adjusted himself as well, lifting an arm and encircling her within an open embrace, leaning back in his own chair and running his fingers through her long hair gently. She felt so small in his arms, a thought never would have occurred to him and certainly something he would never mention to the warrior. But he was glad for this moment. A moment where one of his own could feel completely at peace in his arms.  
And with that thought easing away his rage and denial, he gave Rocket’s form one last glance, and let his own eyes fall closed.  
…  
Drax stared straight ahead, brow drawn low and lips pursed into a tight frown as he watched patients dressed in white robes as they were guided about the courtyard by nurses and loved ones alike.  
He hadn’t moved from the creaky wooden bench for more than a couple of minutes at a time since they had managed to bring Rocket there, only leaving to feed himself and force one of the other Guardians one by one to join him outside the walls of the hospital. He bet that had he slept a wink within the last two weeks, he would have still taken to sleeping outside under the Xandarian sky than in that horrible room.  
He understood their need to be at Rocket’s side, and honestly, he wished he shared their methods of coping, but the medical smell of the facility in itself, paired with the insistent beeping of the heart monitor and the comatose raccoon, Drax didn’t think the medical staff would have been all too fond of seeing a warrior of his size fall into a mental breakdown.  
Even the thought of Rocket’s unconscious form lying limply on the white-sheeted bed made his stomach churn, he assumed it was a good thing he had not eaten anything within the last two days lest he vomit at the image burned into the back of his mind.  
The thought itself was actually quite funny to him. After the deaths of his wife and child, seeing and even being the cause of death had become quite natural for him, almost finding joy in the sounds of his victim’s screams and the sounds of bones shattering under the strength of his muscles. But the thought of Rocket, or any Guardian for that matter, with a three inch wide hole burned into the side of his skull made Drax cringe.   
He turned his gaze from one of the wheelchair-bound patients being pushed by what he could only assume was her wife and shifted his stare towards his latest victim. It had taken a good amount of time to convince Groot to leave the bedside of Rocket, having taken all of his strength to keep the being from turning around and running straight back into that damned hospital room, but the two had been sitting in silence for almost two hours now and the green moss around his collar and the red undertones of his bark had already brightened immensely.  
The tree in question had elected to sit beside the bench, brushing his fingers lazily through the grass and plucking away small white and purple flowers, gathering his lap along with a few larger ones he had grown out of the palms of his hands. The two had yet to make eye contact or engage in any conversation. Not that it would have lasted long with Groot’s limited vocabulary and Drax’s lack of understanding, only one more reason Rocket’s loss had truly crippled them as a team.  
It pained Drax to think of what would become of the flora colossus were Rocket to truly leave them. Not only was he Groot’s translator for the team, but, as it had become incredibly clear to everyone, Rocket was a true extension of Groot in himself.  
No one knew how long the two had been partners before the Guardians had been formed, but they were by far the closest any of them could ever hope to achieve in terms of companionship, their bond being stronger than anything Drax or any of the others had ever witnessed. So strong, that he had never realized how different Groot could become without the presence of his friend.  
He was far more nervous, having shown no sign of his trademark smile the others had become so accustomed to, his eyes staring off distantly, conveying the only emotion Drax was almost afraid to see in his friend, sadness. It was something everyone had noticed beforehand and actively tried to avoid, seeing as though Groot was every bit as much as an importance to the team as anyone else, both strength and relationship wise, but the conclusion was inevitable in the end. Without Rocket, Groot was an outcast amongst his team members.  
The language barrier had caused more problems than one as he found himself unable to convey anything without someone growing especially frustrated in their attempts to communicate with the tree. The inability to communicate with any of the others had become so tedious in fact, that he had stopped speaking entirely, instead reverting to grunting softly or simply sitting silently within his own thoughts.  
“Is that for him?”  
Groot perked up as though startled by Drax’s voice, turning around to face the man with a look of slight hope, desperate for the companionship. His eyes flickered to the chain of flowers he had begun to weave in his lap and nodded slowly.  
Drax smiled slightly, glad that he had managed to at least start some form of conversation with the being. “What is it?” He asked, leaning forward slightly in his seat as though to get a better look at the thing.  
Groot looked away almost embarrassed before cupping his hands around the braid of flowers ever-so-gently and raising it closer for the man beside him to see. The weaves were tightknit, almost impossibly so, making Drax wonder how he had managed not to break off any stems as they intertwined with one another. The flowers themselves were placed in intricate patterns based on colors and sizes of all kinds, the petals faring out beautifully amongst one another.  
Not wanting to disrupt the work his friend had spent on the intricate flower chain, Drax left the thing in Groot’s palms, only reaching forward to brush a petal or two with the tip of his finger with interest. “I am sure our friend will be grateful for it once he awakens.” He stated, placing a large hand on the being’s shoulder, pretending as though he did not see the saddened and doubtful frown Groot gave him as he returned the flower chain to his lap.  
“Would you teach me?”  
Groot practically whirled around to face the man beside him, almost sending Drax reeling back in surprise. He was pleasantly surprised however, by the warm smile he received as the tree nodded in excitement.  
Deciding he had spent enough time on the hard wood of the bench, the tattooed man lowered himself onto the grass beside his friend, smiling when Groot promptly dropped a pile of small white flowers into his own lap, carefully picking up a pair and stringing them together before handing them off to him.  
…  
Everything was dark.  
Dark and calm and comfortable.  
No pain.  
No twitching or split personalities.  
No one trying to tear him apart from the inside out.  
In fact, it was the first time Rocket found himself able to say that he felt safe. Completely and utterly safe within the warm embrace of the darkness that he found himself enveloped in. Not that he had never felt protected with the other guardians of when Groot assured him with the gentle stroking of his fur that he was no longer alone after a nightmare. But there was still the fear of loss. Of pain and death and being cut open again.  
But as he found that his body lacked any sense of pain and his mind much lighter without the weight of his anxieties, he felt as though nothing could hurt him.  
Of course, with Rocket’s luck, nothing good ever lasted for long.  
The comfort of the darkness was torn away as his sight was illuminated by a bright white light that made him wince. And then everything was heavy. He could feel the weight of every bone as he forced himself to move, the pull of his skin as it stretched and contoured with his body. He had become suddenly aware of every aspect of his body. The heavy beating of his heart as it pulsated within his pained chest and ribcage that expanded with every strained breath he took. He could hear joints moving and mechanical sounds as the metal grafted into his body moved with him, reminding him of every implant and prosthetic his body possessed. And by the sounds of the sparking wires and metallic scraping echoing throughout his head, Rocket wouldn’t have been all too surprised to find that he was more machine than animal at this point.  
His head was throbbing, a feeling that, although unnervingly unsurprising at this point, was still painful as much as it was irritating. An unfortunately, as the light grew brighter and the heaviness returned to his bones, the pain grew more intense as well.  
It had started as an insistent throbbing, one he had grown begrudgingly accustomed to over the past few days, but quickly expanded into what he could only describe as a skull splitting ache that threatened to make his brain burst entirely.  
And then the heat.  
So much heat. Burning, in fact. Right on the side of his temple, and it hurt so damned much that he wanted to do nothing more than to go back into the darkness that had been so comfortable.  
But the light just kept getting brighter, and the pain harsher, and the burning hotter. And he couldn’t move. It felt as though his body itself had fallen completely limp, leaving him numb and rather frustrated if he did say so himself.  
He had experienced the lack of muscle control for long enough, and honestly, he just wanted to be able to move his hands enough to rub at the agonizing pain that had engulfed his mind.  
He could feel his ears twitch slightly as a new sound began to make itself present in his already raging mind.  
Beep… Beep…  
Rocket screwed his eyes closed tighter as though it would somehow help in blocking the sound seeing as though he was unable to move his hands enough to cover his ears.  
Beep…  
His eyes finally snapped open.  
Bright light flooded his vision even more, if that was even possible, leaving his sight blurry and unfocused as he scanned the room. Both Peter and Gamora, or at least fuzzy blobs with their general shape and color, slept soundly a few feet away, leaned into each other and both snoring softly. Something he would have most likely used as blackmail had he not been so disoriented at the moment.  
Beep…  
“Dammit.” He growled lowly, gritting his sharp teeth together and trying to will enough strength to turn his head towards the sound.  
Beep…  
“Quill.” He croaked. God, his throat hurt. “Quill.”  
The man stirred slightly, yawning and running a pale hand over his weary face as he searched for the source of whatever had woken him up. His gaze scanned his surroundings drowsily before landing on the raccoon on the bed in front of him.  
“Rocket?” He asked, almost in disbelief as his eyes widened immensely.  
He winced at the volume of the voice, frowning at the man as he sat up slowly in his seat, nudging Gamora awake as he did so. “shh… headache.” He managed, somehow gaining up enough feeling in his lower body to curl up onto his side, burying his head into the pillow he sat on.  
Gamora was staring at him now too, her mouth hung open slightly as she mirrored Peter’s expression.  
He was about to simply let his eyes fall closed again, seeing as though the two were doing nothing at this point to ease his pain, feeling the pull of exhaustion cloud his mind with the comfort of the darkness again, when two more figures entered the room.  
“Friends, look at the creation I have-“  
“I AM GROOT!”  
Rocket’s mind was close to imploding at this point as the dumb tree let out a high pitched shout, running at full force towards the bed and scooping him up. He cringed as the arms encircled his body, causing his arms and legs to fall limply to the side.  
“He is awake!”  
Rocket frowned angrily as the voiced continued to shout, curling up in Groot’s warm embrace and pressing his ears to his head. “Yeah ‘m ‘wake. Stop bein’ so loud. ‘n stop that beepin’ sound.”  
Peter smiled so wide that Rocket feared the man’s face would split right down the middle as he raised a hand to run it through his friend’s fur. “Sure thing bud, glad you’re back.”  
He gave the man a weak smile as his eyes began to drift closed again. “Aw, d’ya miss me Stardork?”  
An array of bright colors and the sweet smell of flowers caught Rocket’s attention as Groot lowered a chain of flowers around the weary creature in his arms, wrapping the thing around him like a scarf which he nestled into gratefully, the sweet aroma allowing his mind to wander to a more calming state, rendering him defenseless against the pull of exhaustion giving his family one last look of gratefulness as Drax lowered his own mangled and disfigured flower chain upon the raccoon.  
He smiled to himself, his eyes slipping closed. Whatever he had been ‘built’ to do, whatever Krei had meant for 89P13 to become, meant nothing now. All that mattered now as he allowed the thought of sleep to take over his mind and body, was the life he had created for himself where he could feel completely safe amongst his family.  
The end


End file.
